


Fresh Meat on L Street

by morbid_beauty



Series: Bands in College AU [1]
Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore, Taking Back Sunday
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Drug Abuse, F/M, Hand Jobs, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Past Abuse, Recreational Drug Use, Slut Shaming, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morbid_beauty/pseuds/morbid_beauty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The six boys of suite L325 are, like everyone else on L street, silly stressed out college freshmen. Drama passes the time even for the boys: Frank is pretty set on getting the boy he likes, Pete is pretty set on losing the boy he likes, and Gabe is set on fucking anyone that can vote. And the two freshmen bands gaining traction, My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy, are fighting for notoriety on campus. The question is whether their forward-thinking school full of gay kids and pretentious art snobs can handle it. And whether those pesky student loans were worth it.</p><p>(Or: the one where Frank is an idiot, Gerard is an asshole, and Mikey and Pete need to just work it out already. 1/3.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fresh Meat on L Street

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written originally for [Erin](http://holyhobbitshit.tumblr.com/) and is still dedicated to her although it kind of got away from me. Thanks to betas [PJ](http://eyebanging.tumblr.com/) and [Ly](http://dyzzylyzzy.tumblr.com/). I've been trying to write a college AU for a really long time and I finally did it and I'm really proud of how it turned out. Anyway, enjoy!

Frank wasn't a shy guy. When he felt something, he shouted it out to the world. When he wanted something, he was gonna work to get it and nothing would stand in his way. It wasn’t that he was super confident or that he didn't get embarrassed, he just didn't give a fuck. Those negative feelings went away, and who cared what other people thought?

In this case, though, it wasn't something but someone and he'd been beating around the bush for weeks. He knew he was being ridiculous and unrequited crushes weren't really his style but he couldn't seem to throw himself out there like he was used to doing. Maybe it was because it was his freshman year of college and his first time away from home outside of his comfort zone, or because living with five dudes and crushing on one was against unwritten rules. Maybe there was something in the water here a hundred miles from home that dulled the fire in his chest.

Or maybe it was just what Ray did to him.

They were sitting in the common area of their suite. The floor was littered with books and beer cans and video game cases. Ray had his guitar out, sitting on the coffee table with Frank by his feet next to the amp. Ray said he needed to get some practicing time in, take a break from cramming for midterms, and Frank was quick to offer an audience—anything to stop himself from analyzing J. D. Salinger books and spend some time with Ray.

Frank felt small, for many reasons. Ray's guitar skills were different from his and awe-inspiring; Frank beamed as, just inches from his face, Ray's fingers moved in impossible ways on the neck of the guitar, the sounds coming from the amp sending chills up and down Frank's spine. Ray was tall, over six feet and way taller than Frank, and he had these broad shoulders and this large, muscular torso that made Frank turn beet red because he'd seen him without a shirt on (they're suitemates, of course he had) and Frank couldn't help but imagine what the rest of his body looked like free of pestering articles of clothing. Ray had this huge, curly head of hair that bounced as he head banged to a particularly catchy riff and his plump lips parted slightly and turned into a modest smile, his eyebrows arching as he looked down at Frank.

"That sounded sweet," Ray said, in that high voice of his that Frank found really cute.

"Yeah, it did," Frank nodded, voice small because Ray had nice fucking eyes and he was smiling like the world was perfect. It made Frank sick how much he was mentally gushing over this guy.

"Once this midterm shit is over, we need to go to the music building and jam again," Ray said distractedly, looking out the large window at the mostly empty freshmen quad. It was starting to get seriously cold out and most people were holed up in their rooms studying. Ray's fingers worked their magic on his guitar; Frank stared, mesmerized as they worked, and of course his mind flew away with him and he was imagining them working on him, strong and sure and sending fire across his skin.

"Yeah, I fucking miss that," Frank said, looking up at Ray's face again. His tongue was out as he concentrated, his eyebrows furrowed and stare still on the window. Frank faltered. "It's been, like, three whole days."

Ray smirked, narrowing his eyes at Frank, and the door burst open just then. The front door of their suite was never locked if any of the six suitemates were inside so they'd gotten used to the spectacle of Pete fucking Wentz charging through. He threw his bag into the narrow hallway that led to the bathroom and their bedrooms, as if they really needed something in the fucking way. Frank and Ray both stared at him, bemused.

"My mom sent fucking cookies!" he shouted, falling on the couch and presenting them with a box that seemed rather large to just be holding cookies.

"From Chicago?" Frank said, looking at Pete ravish the box. Pete beamed and nodded. "That is a thousand miles away, those cookies are poisonous."

"Priority shipping, asshole," Pete said, kicking Frank but never ceasing to smile. He pulled out an envelope from inside the box and set it aside. "I swear to you she makes the best fucking chocolate chip cookies."

"Well, then," Ray said, setting his guitar on the floor. He scooted over to the couch and Frank sat between him and Pete. "Let's have some poisonous Chicago chocolate chip cookies."

"Say that five times fast," Frank mumbled, and Ray chuckled.

"I should go give some to Mikey," Pete said distractedly as he pulled out of the box a huge container. Ray and Frank smiled at each other knowingly. Why ever would Pete go all the way across the quad to share cookies with a friend when he lived with five other guys? Pete noticed their bemused stares and threw the small white rope that had been tied around the container (because that was a sure way to vacuum seal fucking cookies on their way to upstate New York from Chicago) at Ray, and he just laughed.

"How the fuck are you guys not dating yet?" Ray asked, picking up what looked like a really moist cookie when Pete offered. Frank waited for Ray's hand to be nowhere near the thing, so as to avoid contact, and then reached for his own.

Pete delved his own hand in and shoved a cookie greedily into his mouth, not even seeming to savor it as he devoured it. "Ith compicated," he said through his mouthful.

"What's complicated?" Frank said before taking a bite and fuck that was a good cookie, he's going to Mama Wentz's house for spring break for sure. "You guys like each other, what's holding you back?"

"I don't like him," Pete said indignantly, hugging the container to his chest and eating another cookie.

Ray scoffed. "And I'm a fucking princess," he said, starting to hook the rope around his finger.

"You sure are," Frank said, making Pete fall into a laughing fit.

"Seriously, though, I don't get it," Ray said, staring off in that thoughtful way he does. "You like each other, you see each other all the time because you freaks have three classes together, but all you do is flirt."

"I flirt with you guys," Pete said defensively. It was the same conversation the suitemates had had with him for about a month and Frank was getting tired of it.

"Yeah, for fun," Ray continued, just as stubbornly. Frank munched on another cookie and grinned when Pete narrowed his eyes. "But Mikey obviously likes you and you obviously like him. You're so lucky. The guy I like is way out of my league."

What? Whoa, hold the fuck up. Did Ray just say...the _guy_ he liked? Shit, now Frank hated himself that bit more. Their college was a small, super liberal art school in the middle of nowhere; people applied just because they knew that they wouldn't be judged or discriminated against because of their sexuality or gender. So it was safe to assume someone wasn't straight. But it still came as a shock to Frank. Ray just didn't seem like the type. Maybe that was one of the things holding Frank back.

"First of all, Ray, don't sell yourself so short," Pete said, his pleased smile coming back. "You are a hot piece of ass, right Frank?"

"Yes, yes you are," Frank said. He prayed his voice didn't crack, or give something away.

"Whatever," Ray said, blushing and smirking at Frank.

"Second, I just..." Pete went on thoughtfully. "I'm not into guys, I don't know."

"You're into Mikey," Frank stated. "Mikey is a guy. Ergo, you are into guys. Or at least one."

Pete closed the container of cookies, making Ray draw his hand back quickly. Pete's face was red and his frown was deep. "You know what? I don't want to have this conversation right now."

The air seemed suddenly thick. No one liked Pete Wentz angry so they dropped the subject; they'll deal with his issues later. Ray loosened the rope from his fingers and held it taut. It was about a centimeter thick and just long enough that Ray could tie it around his wrists a few times. They sat in silence, Pete still fuming and Frank staring not subtly at all at Ray's hands.

"You know, you could kill someone with this," Ray said softly, breaking the silence. Frank sighed. Silence wasn't common in suite L325 and Frank was glad to hear a voice.

"What are you on about, Toro?" Pete said, classic grin huge. Guy bounced back fast.

Then Ray swiftly brought the rope over Frank's face and pressed it to his throat. Maybe Frank had a thing for asphyxiation, choking, and maybe the idea of Ray tying a rope around his neck was sending blood to places he really didn't want it right then. Frank's breath hitched in his throat and he held it, leaning slightly forward subconsciously. Frank's eyes were wide and Ray's face was so close to his. "See?" Ray said. "I could choke a guy."

"You keep that in case we get a burglar," Pete said, smiling incredulously and eyeing Frank in a rather suspicious way. "You're fucking weird, Ray."

Ray pulled the rope back, chuckling, and Frank let out a breath. Pete knew people, or at least he knew Frank, and the grin on Pete's face told Frank that his little fetish had been detected.

"I'm putting this in my room," Pete said, standing. "You want more, you ask. Don't ask Gabe. If he gives you any of these, I kill you all."

"Does your mom also make good muffins?" Frank asked. Ray laughed, picking up his guitar. Pete gave him the finger as he turned toward the bedrooms.

***

"Just fucking tell him you like him."

Frank and his roommate, Bob, were sitting at the food court in the early afternoon, late for lunch but early for dinner. The rows and rows of tables were mostly empty of their usual crowd of misfits in their late teens and early twenties. The walls were lined with paintings by students from the visual arts conservatory, odd landscapes and shapes. Frank was eating fries, staring over Bob's shoulder at the tall window that faced the forest that the Senior Village was behind.

"No," Frank said flatly. He sighed because he knew he was full of shit and he really should tell Ray he liked him, or at least come on to him. What's the worst that could happen? Still, he didn't have it in him to even attempt approaching that subject with Ray. "I don't know. I'm not usually this damn shy about my feelings but, fuck..." Frank did not like Bob's incredulous stare; he knew Bob was mentally judging him. "Ray is just so, I don't know, cool and really sweet and he makes me feel inadequate. And Christ, we live together!"

"You are full of shit," Bob said, taking a bite from his burger. And yeah, Frank knew he was full of shit.

"Whatever, fuck you. How was your midterm?"

"Midterm-y." Bob leaned forward in his seat and narrowed his eyes. "You have to tell him. You keep staring at him like a puppy dog and it is quite pathetic."

"Do I really," Frank said in monotone, resigned.

"Halo last night. You would not stop staring at him. If he didn't notice, he is fucking stupid and doesn't even deserve you."

Frank laughed because of course Ray didn't notice. At least, Frank hoped he didn't. When Ray played video games, he got this super concentrated expression and practically became part of the damn game. Pete probably noticed because he's Pete, and Bob only noticed because he was sitting next to Ray. But Ray couldn't be drawn from the game for a second. Frank couldn't stop staring at him; he looked so damn cute when he was concentrating.

"Bob, you little fuck," Frank said, grinning.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Frank thinking about his last boyfriend and how easy it was to get him horizontal.

"Hey, we're taking over the music building Friday night," Bob said, snapping Frank out of his thoughts. "Apparently Pete and Andy and those guys are trying to combat us for best unnamed band on campus."

There were quite a few bands on campus, but most of them had names. Frank, Ray, Bob, Mikey, and Mikey's pretentious conservatory older brother Gerard had jammed a few times over the past couple months, writing halfway decent songs and doing halfway decent covers in front of their crew of friends, but it wasn't really something they took seriously. Which sucked because Frank would give anything to be in a good band and he thought they had potential but four freshmen and a junior that had all known each other two months? They were barely settled in school yet and had never finished writing one song. If it was going to happen, it wouldn't happen anytime soon.

Pete and his crew, on the other hand, were pretty solid. They were two sets of childhood friends and had started jamming at freshmen orientation. They played all the time, and they sounded awesome, but also didn't have a name. Frank was kind of jealous; there was a buzz in the school about those freshmen that took over the music building at least three times a week and went all out.

"They would," Frank muttered bitterly. "There's no way in hell they're better than us."

"They're definitely not," Bob agreed with a chuckle. Because they probably were and neither of them wanted to admit it.

Frank was glad that they had at least dropped the subject of Ray and Frank's inadequacy in approaching him. Maybe Frank needed some alcohol in him. There was that Halloween party this weekend, on his birthday. That could work.

"You got any midterms left?" Bob asked, stealing some of Frank's fries.

"Tomorrow at, like, 6pm," Frank said, swatting his roommate's hand away.

"Sucks to be you."

Frank narrowed his eyes. "I know where you sleep Bryar, don't fucking test me."

***

It was an unnaturally warm day for late October so Frank was sitting on a lunch table in the quad bent over his Intro to Psychology textbook. The four decades-old buildings that surrounded the quad were filled with about 700 stressed out freshmen, all scratching their heads like Frank and dealing with projects and papers and last-minute study sessions. Frank kicked the dirt under his feet, stared out at the bright green lawn at people on blankets with laptops, then up at a passing airplane. He couldn't grasp the difference between the A, B, and C personalities and was ready to throw the damn textbook into a dumpster and a distraction wasn't good but there was the soccer team, all hot topless guys, appearing from behind the dining hall at the edge of the quad and continuing what looked like a nice, sweaty jog around campus. Frank's test was in two hours and 30% of his grade for the semester; he needed to fucking think. So he watched the soccer players with no pretense of subtly until they disappeared before the dining hall, located at a corner of the quad, and then decided to buckle down and study.

Ray plopped down across from him on the table a minute later, smiling widely at Frank.

"Where the fuck is everyone?" Ray asked. "I haven't seen our suitemates all day."

"Dewees and Bob are taking midterms, Pete ditched soccer practice to go to the Hammocks with Mikey, and Gabe went into town for groceries," Frank said absently. He stopped swinging his feet when he accidentally kicked Ray and then looked up and smiled when Ray's jaw dropped.

"The Hammocks?" Ray said.

"I know, right? You can't get more romantic than the Hammocks!"

Ray laughed and shook his head. The Hammocks were, as you would expect, a place on campus where there were many, many hammocks. They appeared a few yards into the northern forest across from Sophomore Row, two weeks into the school year; it was said that the seniors had worked on the now famous location. All of the hammocks were decently far apart and at night little Chinese lanterns would light up around the area, but during the day light shined through the trees in a very particular, pretty way. Or so Frank heard—it was a place for first dates, or anniversaries, and Frank had had neither since starting school. But it was, apparently, romantic. Frank wondered what it would be like to drag Ray into the Hammocks at night, lying with him and swinging lightly on that cloth, kissing and whispering and giggling and so close.

"Hey Frank, can I ask you something?" Ray asked. Frank was blushing. Could Ray read on his face what he'd been thinking?

"Sure, but make it quick," Frank said quickly. He wanted Ray. Fuck, he wanted Ray. But he really did need to study. He could daydream about the Hammocks another day, and work up the courage to flirt with Ray when he wasn't cramming. "I'm studying."

"Never mind," Ray mumbled. And Ray looked so put off that Frank really did hate himself for being so rude. Bob was right, he needed to say it. And he would, after his last midterm. After all of that passed.

"Nah, come on dude," Frank said encouragingly.

"I, just...you have a lot of experience with guys, right?"

Frank had been labeled promiscuous the first week of school after a party they went to in the Senior Village. He'd been found behind the couch of an apartment, come all over his stomach and thighs and half naked with Gerard also half naked next to him. Half meaning the half that counts. They'd messed around after knowing each other a couple of hours but whatever, Gerard was hot and Frank was horny. He did have a lot of experience but it wasn't something he boasted or talked about much.

"Sure, I guess," Frank said, licking his lips and smirking. Ray blushed.

"I don't and I'm sort of..." Ray started, fidgeting. "I don't know, I feel—"

"You have experience with girls, right?" Frank asked, because they had had this conversation before. Ray had no confidence and it sucked because he was such a great guy.

"Yeah," Ray said, looking down, and he looked so damn cute Frank wanted to tackle him right there.

"It's the same, only easier because you're a guy too." Not that Frank knew. He was 100% gay and didn’t understand being attracted to girls. But Ray didn't seem to care because he was mulling over in his mind what Frank had said. Frank suddenly felt like a loser, helping a crush with his crush. After school special, that's what his romantic life had been reduced to.

"I'm not exactly a charmer with the ladies either," Ray said in that same, small voice.

Frank couldn't stand it. Ray was so different from the guys Frank had dated, in every way. He was sweet, kind of quiet, kind of strange, but talented and passionate. Not like Frank's exes, who were pushy and stolid and unimaginative. Frank wasn't attracted to guys like Ray usually but from the second Frank met him, that smile had struck him and those muscles helping Frank lift boxes upstairs to their suite had totally awed him, and hearing him speak had hooked him in. He was hopelessly crushing, confused because he'd never felt hopeless before. Ray was different and it made Frank different.

"Ray, you're so cute," Frank said quickly. Ray chuckled and shook his head. Frank kicked him. "This guy? Just tell him that you like him. Just say it."

Ray stared at Frank blankly for an amount of time that was sure to get uncomfortable, and then suddenly blurted out, "I like you."

James Dewees, Ray's roommate, slid across the tabletop and lied down between Frank and Ray, crumpling Frank's papers. Frank suddenly hated Dewees and stared at him with wide eyes. What a fucking inopportune moment, so typical of Dewees.

"Calculus can kiss my ass," Dewees announced, totally oblivious to what had just happened, unaware of the crazy painful thudding in Frank's chest. His head turned back and forth between his two suitemates as he beamed proudly. "What are you up to, love birds?"

"I have to go...pick up a package," Ray said, eyes down as he left without another word.

"What's up with him?" Dewees asked, watching his roommate walk in the opposite direction of the mail room. Frank felt nauseous and happy, like he was hungover and just won the lottery.

"You're an idiot, Dewees," Frank said, shoving his suitemate off his books and picking them up quickly. Dewees slid off the table and sat where Ray had been, should still be.

"No I'm not," Dewees said indignantly. "I aced the shit out of that Calc test, man!"

"I'm gonna go study in the library," Frank muttered, picking up his stuff. He was too overrun with emotions to deal with Dewees' weirdness and he really did need to study and he should have _said_ something to Ray.

"You fucking do that!" Dewees called as Frank hiked across the quad and made his way to the library.

***

Frank was jittery throughout his entire exam. He hoped to at least get a B although he kept staring into space and thinking about Ray. He didn't want them to end up like Pikey – the name they had affectionately given to the not-couple that was their friends Pete and Mikey – and now he knew they wouldn't. Ray liked him, Ray fucking liked him, and that was all Frank could concentrate on the past couple of hours. He didn't know where Ray had disappeared to, didn't text him and tried to just focus on studying but he suddenly didn't give a shit anymore because Ray liked him. And Frank was grinning, his confidence gone through the roof. He was going to ace this stupid exam, go right up to Ray, and kiss him like he'd been wanting to for weeks. He imagined those lips on his, those hands on him, and he rushed through his test, being one of the first to hand it in before running out of the lecture hall, out of the building, through dozens of his fellow students, passed the library and student center, passed the health center and his favorite vegan place on campus, through the quad where people stared at him like he was an idiot, and stopped in front of his dorm, breathless with the years of cigarettes and just being consistently out of shape. He took out his phone, called Ray, and stood against the brick staring at the sun set across the far parking lot next to the opposite dorm building.

Ray picked up after letting the phone ring way too long and he gave Frank a happy hello.

"Where are you?" Frank shouted excitedly. "I wanna kiss you. Right fucking now."

And Frank couldn't even wait for them to be face to face for this revelation. He was too damn happy, and he was back to his normal self because he knew it was safe to say.

"What?" Ray gasped.

"I like you too, you idiot."

"Oh my god."

It wasn't a good “oh my god” and Frank faltered, staring at the graffitied concrete. "Love not war" it said, because the freshmen at this school were so damn original.

"I was just..." Ray started, and he sounded so distraught that Frank thought he might actually throw up. "I didn't mean to... Oh god, Frank, I'm so sorry."

"Why?" Frank asked, sullen now.

"I don't... I was just... I thought if I said it to you it would be easier to, you know, say it to someone else..."

And Frank slid down the side of the building, ready to cry from embarrassment because his life was a fucking after school special.

"Oh," Frank said faintly. He actually felt nauseous. His face and ears were hot, his eyes stung, and he was shaking. He felt sick, he was an idiot.

"I'm really sorry," Ray repeated and Frank just wanted to crawl under a hole.

"It's okay," Frank choked out, biting his lip. He looked up at the sky and mentally begged God to just strike him with lightning already, to end the torture, because he didn't even want to exist anymore.

"I, uh..." Ray started nervously. His voice sounded so nice in Frank's ear but, unlike most times, it wasn't comforting at all. "Do you... I don't know what to do now, I'm sorry."

"You could hang up," Frank said, barely above a whisper.

"If that's what you want."

Frank wanted Ray. He wanted Ray to tell him he liked him. Or at least to take back this entire phone call.

"Bye." He didn't wait for Ray's reply, just hung up his phone and held his legs close to his chest.

***

Mandatory family dinner for the suitemates of L325 was every Thursday. That meant Pete had to unglue himself from Mikey's side, Dewees had to peel himself off his latest girlfriend, and Frank had to show his face in front of his suitemates—including Ray. He'd spent the better part of the last 24 hours smoking by the tennis court or drinking Bob's Bacardi in his room, skulking and whining to his roommate. Bob, of course, found the situation funny; Frank's propensity to speak without thinking had come back to bite him in the ass and Bob loved it. He didn't love that Frank hadn't showered or shaved and thought Frank needed to stop being dramatic and get the fuck over it.

"You built him up in your mind," Bob said. "That's why you got hurt. Now stop drinking my alcohol."

Still, Frank was a little drunk and smelled of smoke when he stumbled into the common area to find a Super Mario Bros. game going on and three boxes of pizza stacked on the coffee table.

Everyone knew. Frank could tell by the way they looked at him. Dewees was looking at him with pity, Pete with amusement, Gabe like he was really uncomfortable and wanted to shout something out. Bob took a seat on the floor next to the love seat where Ray was sitting, pointedly avoiding looking at Frank. Frank sighed and sat in front of Pete facing the window, so that he could see everyone. Pete immediately ran his fingers comfortingly through Frank's greasy hair. Frank was alive. He still felt choked with embarrassment, wrecked with the pain of unrequited crush, but alive. Just that.

"So Pete and Mikey got nasty in the Hammocks," Gabe blurted, smirking at his roommate Pete when he looked over indignantly. From the opposite end of the couch, Dewees scoffed. Bob and Ray laughed. Frank took a bite of the vegetarian pizza Pete handed him and tried really hard not to stare at Ray. He was wearing a tight shirt that highlighted all the best parts of his torso and, fuck, he didn't like Frank.

"Which one was it so I can stay the fuck away from it?" Dewees asked, jumping over a goomba.

"They were too busy getting nasty to take in which hammock they were in," Gabe continued to tease. Dewees sucked his teeth.

"I can't even trust my own roommate," Pete said, then smiled slyly. "Gabe sucked William off behind the humanities building."

There was a chorus of “WHAT?!” followed by hysterical fits of laughter when Gabe blushed. Even Frank laughed, which felt nice after a day of hating himself. Then he saw Ray laugh and yeah, wow, what a beautiful smile.

"Unlike Pete, I am not ashamed of my sexual endeavors," Gabe said, groaning when a bullet killed him. He paused the game and looked at Pete. "So, it's time for you to share."

"Nothing fucking happened," Pete insisted, drinking from a beer. Gabe rolled his eyes and Dewees kicked him to make him start the game.

"You're full of shit, Wentz," Frank said, trying to feel normal. He glanced at Ray again, who immediately looked away from him.

"They made out, which they've been doing for weeks," Gabe began and Pete bumped into his side, making him fall into a gap and die again.

"I'm gay above the waist, I've said that," Pete states. There was a sort of group whine in response, followed by sentiments similar to the one Frank had made. "I mean, lips are lips, right?"

"Rutting up against each other and coming in your pants is not above the waist," Gabe said. Pete blushed.

"Dicks are dicks," Bob piped in.

"This week has been so high school, Christ," Dewees said and Frank wondered if he was referring to him at all. Probably. Some heads had turned in his direction.

"Now two of our suitemates are fucking with Ways," Gabe said and then his eyes went wide as he looked down at Frank.

It got quiet again, and Frank knew why. It was Gerard. Gerard was the guy Ray liked. Ray turned beet red, glaring at Gabe, and everyone else was looking at Frank now. Frank placed his slice in Pete's lap, mumbled about needing a smoke, and left the suite before anyone could tell how miserable he was. He felt dizzy as he walked down the hall of his dorm, hearing laughter from under doors. It was really unfair.

***

The campus music building was one of the more modern buildings at the edge of campus, passed all the other academic buildings. It was a couple stories high of boring brown brick and it stood against the night sky quiet, lonely, and unsecured; despite the building being reserved solely for students in the music conservatory, it didn't actually stop silly undeclared freshmen from going in. Or putting out cigarettes at the side of it.

"Of course we're late, you with your cigarettes," Bob whined, crossing his arms and glaring at his roommate. Frank gave him the finger and grinned as they waltzed into the building, heading straight towards the stairs through the high-ceilinged lobby as per text message instructions.

Frank had had enough cigarettes and beer since the family dinner to feel well enough to show his face in front of every single person he knew, but it still made him nervous to walk down the well-lit narrow hallway of the music building's basement. The classrooms were all soundproof, for obvious reasons, so he and Bob didn't hear the music until feet away from the door. Frank turned the knob and walked in; as expected, the band sounded damn amazing. Frank just listened to the fast-paced beat, the clashing guitars, and the gorgeous vocals from Patrick as he made his way around the room. There were maybe a couple dozen people, more than last time (because each time, there were more than last time). A few were standing on the floor level with the band, dancing and jumping, while most were sat on the porcelain bleachers. The room was rather small; Andy's drum kit – which he beat on passionately, shirtless – took up most of the floor along with the amps, especially with Pete's carelessly spinning his bass around and Joe flailing. It was a sight, and it sounded awesome, but Frank quickly made a beeline for the far end of the bleachers, ignoring familiar and some unfamiliar eyes giving him wary looks.

Mikey was sitting at the top row, hands on his brother's head. Gerard was sitting in front of Mikey next to Ray and Frank tried not to pay mind to the fact that they were holding hands. They were too absentmindedly bobbing their heads to the punk sounds on the floor to notice Frank and Bob. Frank sat next to Mikey, getting a quick half hug before Mikey continued to tap his fingers on Gerard's head. With a glance back, Gerard smiled his hello and took his hand away from Ray's. Frank just barely heard Bob chuckle over the music.

There was no stress, no drama. The midterms were forgotten and they were all just a small get-together of friends and strangers. While the band worked through some kinks, Frank moved between the bleachers and made new acquaintances – most at least familiar from classes, parties, or just wandering around campus. Frank tried not to ogle Ray and Gerard too much. For the band's last song, almost everyone was on the floor for an impromptu mosh pit; Frank almost knocked out a redhead named Hayley he'd just met but she seemed cool about it; a really hot guy he'd been eyeing named Ryan refused to leave the bleachers; Pete pressed his forehead to Mikey's as they sang. Frank caught Gerard kissing Ray.

It was an interesting session/practice/gig and everyone agreed the band should play a show at The Dent some weekend. The Dent was the on-campus venue for club parties and rock shows. They said they'd think about it and made everyone haul ass getting the amps and instruments to the elevator.

Everyone except Frank. He hung back, starting to feel normal again as he joked with and high-fived people he had just met. Forgetting how flushed he felt when he looked at Ray or Ray looked at him, how embarrassed and angry he still was.

"Hey, we're going for drinks after they take their stuff to their dorms, you in?" Mikey asked Frank, arm hanging over his shoulder.

"Nah, I think I'm gonna go to my room and do homework," Frank said. Mikey scoffed indignantly, as if to say, _On a Friday night are you kidding?_ Frank was glad no one seemed to mind that they were just standing to the side while everyone else struggled dragging big heavy things down the narrow hall.

"It's my birthday tomorrow, dickhead, there will be plenty of drinking then," Frank said, and he meant it. Mikey sighed and opened his mouth as if to argue but when Pete called him, he sprinted away from Frank and took Pete's hand. Frank wondered what they would name their kids.

"Got any smokes?"

Frank looked up at Ray, who had suddenly appeared standing against the wall. Frank sighed because Ray didn't smoke but Frank did, like a chimney, especially when he was stressed.

"Yeah," Frank said.

"Let's go smoke," Ray said, then started walking.

Ray wasn't demanding, necessarily, he just had a weird way of asking for things and that definitely made him more attractive. He had just the right amount of social awkwardness to be intriguing without being unsettling. Ray guided Frank toward the stairs and they slowly made their way up and outside, against a wall of the building, and Frank lit a cigarette.

"You haven't talked to me in days," Ray said as Frank inhaled greedily. People from the jam session passed them, shouting goodbyes and dispersing in opposite directions.

"Gee, I wonder why," Frank said in a monotone. Ray sighed deeply. Frank noticed some people lingering, namely Gerard and Mikey. They were being too subtle for Frank to be completely sure they were watching but he knew.

"I'm really sorry," Ray said. He really did sound sorry. Almost pained.

Frank was trying to be as nonchalant as possible, leaning against the building and smoking casually but really he was wrecked inside. "Whatever," he said, then mentally cursed himself because his voice had cracked.

"Take all the time you need, but...you're one of my best friends and I need you," Ray said and Frank didn't even know who he was angry at anymore. "I just want us to be normal again."

Frank nodded, flinching when Ray gave him a hug, and stared blankly at the ground. Seconds later Mikey was at his side and when he looked up, Gerard and Ray were a hundred yards away.

"Did you hear that I made Pete jizz his pants?" Mikey said and Frank broke out laughing, tension gone. And, yeah, he wanted things to be normal again too.

***

They went to the Halloween party at The Dent first, sponsored by the LGBTQ club. Drag queens abounded, crumbling zombies moaned, and a kissing booth that was getting a lot of attention zigzagged through the bodies. Frank was wearing a cape and plastic teeth, calling himself a vampire; lipstick he'd borrowed from Hayley was at the corner of his mouth, drawn to his chin. His first and fresh tattoo on his back kind of hurt but felt really good, like the first time he was fucked but without the nausea and regret afterwards.

School-sponsored events meant no alcohol but most people were some kind of not-sober, dancing to bad music or just standing around. Frank was chatting with Victoria Asher, one of the "notches on Gabe's bedpost," as Pete put it, and they were comparing notes on good blowjobs—giving and getting (eating out, in her case).

"But it's, like..." Frank struggled to get out, snapping his fingers and scrunching his face up in a way that made Victoria laugh. "You know, it's really fucking sensitive there but that's why I want you to mostly stay away from it. Give some attention to the rest of my dick. Until I'm really close. And I'll fucking tell you if I'm close."

"If you weren't gay I'd give you a sample right now," Victoria shouted over the music. Normally Frank didn’t turn down offers for blowjobs, and she did look cute as a nurse, but it just didn’t do it for him.

"The fact that you have a vagina disqualified you immediately," Frank said into her ear and she laughed. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and excused himself, running out the main entrance into the smoke-filled patio of the small, striped green building. Upon seeing the name on the caller ID, he walked even further away from the loiterers.

"Hey, Ma!" Frank said. His plastic teeth were in his pocket. "I haven't heard from you or dad in almost a week, what the fuck?"

"I'm letting that slide because it's your birthday!" Frank's mom, Linda, squeaked from the receiver. He suddenly felt homesick, wanting his special birthday dinner and cheesecake, a hug from his mother, and a weird trinket his dad found in a thrift store. "Happy birthday, sweetie."

"Thanks, Ma," he said softly, smiling. "I miss you."

Frank walked on and stood against a tree, blowjobs and alcohol forgotten as his mother filled him in on the gossip of the neighborhood that he'd missed out on since he'd gotten to campus.

"Where's dad?" Frank asked eventually. "Is he home? Let me talk to him."

"He's...not here," Linda said softly. Frank knew her well, there was something wrong.

"He should be. It's passed eleven."

"Frankie, baby, we've been putting this off and now that you're an adult..."

Mama Iero had a bad habit of telling Frank bad news at the worst times. Christmas when he was five? They were moving. Middle school graduation? His grandmother had cancer. And now...

"You can't get divorced," Frank said defiantly, interrupting his mother before she was even done with her spiel about drifting apart and how much they both still loved him. "That doesn't make sense. You've been together twenty years!"

"Sweetie—" his mother tried, but he was furious.

"I'll fucking call you tomorrow," Frank spat, only feeling guilty about his attitude after hanging up. He almost threw his phone at a nearby tree; he was so confused and angry and scared. He wiped away tears before he was caught by anyone he knew.

"Frankie!" someone called. It was Dewees and, along with his other suitemates and the Way brothers, he was walking towards a clearing that lead to the academic buildings and beyond them to upperclassmen housing. "We're going to the Senior Village, come on!"

Senior Village meant alcohol. Yes.

Frank stumbled over to them, dazed, and immediately Gabe and Bob had their arms around him and were asking what was wrong.

"Need a drink," Frank said, his hands shaking. "Cigarette."

"You embarrass yourself again, Iero?" Gerard called back. He was guiding the group and his hand was in Ray's back pocket. Frank could've killed him.

"My parents are getting a divorce, asshole!" Frank shouted. The group abruptly stopped their trot between the campus museum and the science building. Frank shakily lit a cigarette. "Happy fucking birthday to me," he mumbled once it was lit and between his teeth.

Frank wasn't bothered as they continued their walk, but Gerard didn't apologize. Mikey chased Pete around, while Dewees and Gabe sang songs reminiscent of elementary school. Bob never left Frank's side and Gerard never moved his hand from Ray's back pocket; Ray looked back once, worried, and it made Frank feel a tiny bit better.

Frank felt his phone vibrating as they weaved through the small opening between the forest and a small field that lead to the Senior Village. He promptly turned it off, escaped from Bob's one-armed embrace, and charged forward. He broke through Gerard and Ray's embrace, and then led their pack the rest of the way without looking back as Bob joined in Gabe and Dewees' chanting.

***

Frank didn't know where he was or what he was or if he was but the fruit punch stung and the boy on his lap was really cute. The music was half decent. He'd lost track of his friends, of himself, of his alcoholic intake. Matt was his name, Matt Robin or something, and he was a senior and he was not a cigarette. Frank had been chatting with two guys Gabe had introduced him to, Alex and Nate, but they started making out next to him and then the stranger appeared on Frank's lap. Everyone seemed to be having fun and all Frank could think was cute boy or cigarette, cute boy or cigarette. Frank was leaving before Matt could finish his sentence.

The Senior Village was not shaped in a square the way the Freshman Halls were. They were in an oval and unlike the Halls, they were two-story houses that had actual apartments in them with kitchens and living rooms. The "streets" here were labeled A through D. Frank had just stumbled out of one of the living rooms on C street and suddenly he was alone, a half dozen other people in front of the house. He walked off the porch and into the path, tried to sit down but ended up stumbling onto his back, which got a good laugh from some people watching, and he lit what would be the last cigarette of the third pack he'd had that day.

"There you are!" someone shouted and Jesus Christ it was Ray, like an angel to the rescue, picking Frank up off the ground and giving him something to lean against as he sat up.

"Where's yer boyfriend?" Frank murmured, too weighed down to even really smoke.

"They gave me the duty of watching you so I had to come after you, he understands," Ray said. Frank scoffed and the force of the breath made him fall backward a bit. Ray held him to his torso and Frank sighed contentedly. "You've been kind of out of it, lately."

"I don't wanna lose my scholarship," Frank said. "And I want you to be _my_ boyfriend. And my parents can't get divorced while I am breathing."

Ray rubbed Frank's arm. Frank didn't want to hear anything and Ray didn't say anything; it warmed Frank to know that Ray seemed to know him so well. They sat in silence for a while, Frank's cigarette burning away as Ray texted someone. The music from the party and chatter from the porch melded together and Frank was lulled for just a moment.

"You make me feel weird," Frank said once that moment had passed, digging his forehead into Ray's shoulder.

"Let's not talk about this now," Ray said, putting his phone away. "Let's get you up."

"No, listen, it's..." Frank started, completely indignant as Ray helped him up by putting his arm under Frank's armpits. "You're so sweet and, like, talented and cute and funny. You're different than the guys I usually date."

"Frank, not right now."

Ray wrapped his arm around Frank's waist, and Frank wrapped both his arms around Ray's neck, looking at Ray's face with crossed eyes. The phrase ‘too much to drink’ rattled in his brain momentarily but he snapped out of it when Ray looked at him and smiled softly.

"That's why I like you so much," Frank went on carelessly. "I get hurt a lot so I pretend I don't. I...have this armor that you broke through without even trying."

Looking like he was legitimately thrown back, Ray replied, "Who would hurt you?"

Frank shoved Ray off of him and hurled, the contents of his stomach spilling over his shoes and Ray's. Ray sighed in a way a tired mother would and the people on the porch cooed. Ray caught Frank before he stumbled backwards and dragged him into the house. Frank was in a daze as Ray guided him passed too many strangers.

"The fuck happened to him?" someone asked, legitimately concerned. Frank knew the person but wasn't sure who it was; Ray had an arm around his waist, another in one of his hands, and Frank had his forehead against Ray's neck.

"I'm gonna clean him up and take him home," Ray told the person. For a second Frank geared himself to pull away, not needing to be taken care of, but then he thought better of it because it would be Ray taking care of him. "He's had a bad week."

"Your face is a bad week," Frank grumbled, and Ray chuckled as they entered the bathroom after saying goodbye to the not-stranger.

Ray helped Frank lean over the sink to wash out his mouth and then drink some water. He sat Frank down at the edge of the tub and wiped away the worst of the vomit from both their pairs of sneakers, making Frank giggle when he muttered, "Hope mom didn't spend too much on this towel," and holding Frank's hand to keep him up as he cleaned his own shoes. Finally, Ray helped Frank stand and they walked out the same way they walked in, Frank staring at the dancing sweat on Ray's skin as they stepped into the cold.

"You asked who would hurt me," Frank recalled as they walked around the oval, the only people stumbling toward the trees. Ray nodded, looking distracted.

"Had a boyfriend junior year of high school," Frank said. "Knocked me 'round a bit."

Ray looked shocked, then angry. "What?" he said.

Frank had never said it out loud. It was something that happened, and then stopped. No one knew and it didn't matter; other than a few nightmares here and there and the occasional bout of depression, self-loathing, and general malaise with his existence that Frank knew was not uncommon for his age group, he was fine. It was just further proof that he didn't deserve Ray because Ray seemed like the type to treat him right. Frank was never treated right. He was used to bruising.

"Gerard makes you happy?" Frank slurred. "He's a good fuck. I hope he makes you happy."

"He does," Ray said distractedly, still looking so concerned.

"Good."

They decided to cut through the main road, turning away from the trees and taking a shortcut to the Halls. Of course a fucking car passed by. Ray jumped back, causing Frank to stumble forward and almost onto the road but Ray wrapped his arms around him.

"I ain't scared of you, motherfucker!" Frank shouted at the car.

"Oh my god Frank, you need to shut up," Ray said. He laughed as he fixed the positions of their arms again, getting Frank to stand up straight. They continued down the road, staying close to the student parking lot on one side. "You just turned 18, if an RA sees you drunk – or worse, if a cop sees you drunk – we're both screwed."

"Alright baby alright," Frank said, grinning dumbly. Ray just smiled and they continued their trudge.

Frank made it to his room without much conscious awareness of what was happening to him, but without incident. He remembered feeling particularly close to the ground when they walked up a slope from upperclassmen housing and Ray's strong hand pressed hard against his side. Stumbling up the stairs in their building, holding on to railings with both hands and climbing one step at a time after insisting he didn't need Ray's help. Ray hurriedly opened their suite door and rushed Frank through the door at the end of the hall, the bathroom door, and got Frank situated into one of the stalls to puke painfully into a toilet.

"You okay?" Ray asked once Frank was lying in his bed, breath mouthwash minty fresh, staring at the ceiling. Ray had gotten Frank into bed after helping him carefully wash up, then disappeared only to come back holding a bucket.

"Yeah," Frank said hoarsely.

"Barf bucket there."

Ray set the bucket near Frank's head on the floor and sat on his bed. The bucket was very clearly labeled "BARF BUCKET" in bold black letters.

"I love that we have a barf bucket," Frank said.

He felt worn out, like a truck had run over him then went in reverse to make sure all his bones were gone. Ray got up and turned off the light and the truck may have run Frank over a third time at the prospect of not getting to take advantage of being alone with Ray.

"Want me to stay?" Ray asked with his hand on the doorknob. Frank couldn't see Ray's expression with only the outside lamps lighting the room so he hoped that Ray had sounded hopeful.

"Sure," Frank said. He wasn't trying to downplay just how much he wanted Ray to stay; he just didn't have the energy in him to be obnoxiously excited about it.

Ray made his way back across the room and it occurred to Frank, as Ray climbed over him to nestle himself between the wall and Frank's body, that Ray had just given up his night for him. That instead of being with his friends and boyfriend, Ray was in his bed. He'd taken care of Frank in a way he really hadn't expected.

They were quiet for a while as Frank contemplated Ray's face. At this close proximity Frank studied Ray's lips that turned up in a small smile, his dark eyes that bore into his, his skin that seemed soft except for where stubble was appearing. Frank lurched very suddenly and turned away, puking into the bucket. Ray rubbed his back and pressed his nose into Frank's hair. Then Frank drank from a water bottle Ray had set on top of his dresser and wiped his mouth on his pillowcase.

"Love is bullshit," Frank choked out. He nuzzled his head into Ray's neck. The last time he'd gotten badly wasted, his mom gave him a spiel about responsibility and his father smacked him right across the face. Then his mom made him tea and his dad bought him a hangover helper and they watched the Twilight Zone.

"Why would you say that?" Ray said. His arms were comfortably around Frank, cradling. He was so warm.

"Tell me something that's true," Frank said. "Something beautiful that isn't exclusive to chick flicks or someone's skewed idea of God."

Ray knew Frank well enough to get to what really mattered. "It isn't your fault, about your parents," he said timidly.

Frank scoffed and turned away. "It is my fault about you," he said. Ray mumbled an apology and Frank reached a hand back to smack him, instead colliding his fingers painfully with the wall.

"Maybe love is a lie," Ray said, grabbing Frank's wrist. He held his fingers close to his mouth. "Maybe we make it up when there's nothing else to explain something that just is. And maybe when that stops, when it goes away and we can't call it love anymore, people get hurt."

Frank nodded. The fumes from the barf bucket hit him and he turned to Ray, who was chewing on his lip thoughtfully, staring at Frank's fingers.

"But if it's a lie I'd rather be a liar," Ray concluded.

Frank drifted off before he could prepare a witty enough response.

***

The boys of suite L325 laughed at Frank's misfortune the next morning, pointing out that no one else got that drunk and teasing him, labeling one of the two toilet stalls with his name on a sheet of loose leaf. He knew that they weren't just teasing him for the fun of it, that they were trying to keep his mind off things and it was the best a few guys could do for their distressed friend. He sincerely appreciated it. Nausea and headache and all.

He slept through the day and spent the night doing homework, trudging like a zombie to General Biology I on Monday morning. Gabe got there first and was eating a muffin. It didn't take long for note-taking to dissipate into gossip.

"Fall Out Boy?" Frank said skeptically.

They were sitting at the back of the 200-strong lecture hall, an old woman in front of a projected image of an atom standing in front of the intrigued future doctors and disinterested freshmen looking to fulfill a science requirement.

"They got a gig at The Dent and couldn't play without a band name, so..." Gabe said. He kept on writing seldom notes, which Frank would copy later. He really could not manage to care enough about class today after the weekend before.

"They went with Fall Out Boy," Frank said. "How did they come up with that crap?"

Gabe chuckled. "I have no idea."

So it was a waiting game to seeing Fall Out Boy perform. Frank wondered how Patrick would do with all those people. He had just under three weeks to get used to the idea. Might not be enough time.

Frank, Ray, Mikey, Gerard, and Bob had a jam session that night. Only a few of their closest friends showed, including Fall Out Boy and the other guys of the suite but it was enough people to lug equipment and that's what mattered. They sat on the porcelain bleachers while Gerard screeched about vampires and Frank flailed around, every reason he needed to get wasted the other night gone to the back of his head as he threw himself into the music to the cheers of his friends.

Everything except Gerard and Ray because of course Gerard thought it would be appropriate to go up to Ray and run his hand across Ray's chest, making him throw his head back. Then grab his hair and pull him close so they could share the mic while Ray tried some harmonies. Then fall to his knees and touch Ray's crotch because the crowd seemed to be enjoying the soft-core porn.

Frank kicked Gerard in the balls, "accidentally," and felt all better.

"You're a fucking asshole, Iero," Gerard murmured as he walked past Frank, helping his brother lug the bass amp to the van that would take their equipment around campus and to their dorms.

"I'm sorry, Gerard, I'm a what?" Frank said loudly. Dewees laughed. He was helping stack the amps into the van. It was way too late on a Monday for this but they needed to get more practice in if they would ever compete with Fall Out Boy.

Once Frank's hands were free, Gerard grabbed his bicep and pulled him away from the chattering crowd that was standing around the van. "Stop being a jerk," he snapped. "Ray's mine. Get over it."

Frank bit his lip to resist the urge to blurt out how he'd woken up the day before: with Ray's arms around him and their mouths close.

"Yes, ma'am," Frank said. Gerard rolled his eyes and stomped back to the van. Frank grinned.

The fourteen boys sat around and smoked well into the night. Frank spent that night like he spent weeknights in high school: giggling in parking lots and ignoring his mother's calls.

***

It was Wednesday afternoon when Pete stormed into the suite, as he does, looking exasperated. There were scratches on his neck and his lips were endearingly swollen. Bob and Dewees were playing fucking Pokemon on the coffee table (apparently, they were still 12) and Frank was rereading a passage of Franny and Zooey to try and decipher its meaning for the end of the semester paper he would have to write.

"I like Mikey," Pete blurted out. As per their earlier pact, Frank, Bob, and Dewees had no visible reaction to Pete's epiphany. "I mean, I've always kind of known but oh my God I really like that kid."

"You should tell Mikey about it," Dewees said nonchalantly. Frank chuckled.

"He knows, he's always known. He knew before I did and that's why it's terrifying."

"I don't know why you're complaining about the opportunity of getting laid!" Bob said, throwing his cards down.

"I'm not supposed to feel this way!" Pete shouted right back. Bob had obviously been joking in his outburst but Pete looked on the verge of tears now.

"There's nothing wrong with—" Frank started, but Pete turned away. They heard his bedroom door slam.

Frank remembered coming out to his Catholic parents and feeling wrong. Maybe he should leave Pete alone.

Suitemates came and went, Frank spending hours engrossed in Franny's breakdown while sitting on the old couch of their common area. When Ray walked through their suite door, though, Frank tensed up. He became acutely aware of how his neck craned, of how his thighs must look in the position he was sitting, and really every visual part of his body. Then he became very aware of Ray when he sat down a few feet from him, taking a book out of his bag and promptly working on some homework as well. The muscles of his bicep, the concentrated expression on his face, the way his fingers looked holding that pencil.

Frank soon lost interest in Franny and set the book down on the coffee table. He lied down and rested his head on Ray's thigh, as he would have prior to the phone call incident. He caught Ray smiling, though his eyes never left the page he was looking at, and felt the movement of his thigh muscles under his head.

"What are you doing?" Frank asked. He could still feel those fluttering nerves in his chest but they had gotten better, somehow, even after the disaster of that phone call a week ago. At least he didn't have anything to hide anymore.

"Calculus," Ray said. His other leg was bent, foot on the couch, using his thigh to prop his notebook onto as he looked at a textbook he'd set next to him.

"You don't take calculus."

"Dewees and I help each other with our homework."

"Sure...." After his little breakdown last week, Frank wanted to feel normal again. Wanted to flirt carelessly with a gorgeous guy, wanted his charm back, wanted to feel comfortable making someone feel uncomfortable. Which was why he said, "My mouth is awfully close to your dick."

Ray grinned, not faltering in his work, and snapped, "My foot is going to be awfully close to your ass if you think about doing anything about that."

Frank giggled. He called his mom later. They didn't talk about the divorce.

***

Saturday afternoon they decided to play tennis because why the fuck not? It would be the last warm day, meteorologists had warned, so they hogged a court behind their dorm building. Ray and Gerard were playing against Dewees and Pete. This arrangement was done because Dewees was good at the game and Pete was shit so they balanced each other out. Also, because Ray and Gerard were disgustingly inseparable.

Frank and Mikey sat at the sidelines, hugging the gate separating them from where another game was going on between Gabe and his main circle of friends. They called themselves the Fueled by Ramen crew for some reason and Frank knew most of them but didn't care to pay their games any mind. He was more interested in Mikey's personal life. They'd become increasingly closer friends over these few months and despite the fact that the Fueled by Ramen game sounded more fun, Mikey's eyes were transitioning from his brother to his lover as the games went on. Frank had to face the same way in order to interrogate him.

"How are things with the two of you?" Frank asked. He'd waited for them to open their sodas so that any awkward silences would be covered by slurping.

"Pete likes me. He admitted it, but..." Mikey started. His eyes were now on Pete who, for being a soccer star for the school, was hilariously bad at tennis and threw a fit when Ray hit the ball over his head. "I don't know. I obviously don't just want him for the sex but we've come so close so many—shut up, you know what I mean."

Mikey hit Frank's arm when he giggled. They sipped soda and Frank eyed Mikey patiently. A few more hits of the ball, and cheers from behind them, and Mikey went on.

"I just...I want to take that step with him," he finally said. "But he's afraid of what it means, or something. He's making it philosophical or having an existential crisis because he's never dated or really been interested in a guy before me. We had a fight and he threatened to leave the school altogether."

Mikey was an open book once you knew him well enough. It felt good to worry about someone else's drama for once. Frank's eyes went wide and he looked away from Ray's toned arms, the way he swung at the ball, to watch Mikey's stoic expression for some giveaway.

"Why?" Frank said. Pete possibly leaving was news to him and they lived together.

"Because so many people at this school are gay, he figures it was contagious or something," Mikey said with a roll of his eyes. "I don't know. I'm getting tired of hearing his excuses. I'm not usually this emotional with guys, I feel weird."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Frank took a mental step back. He'd heard of Mikey's hook-ups earlier in the year. It did seem uncharacteristic of him to be hung up on Pete the way he was. It was kind of cute, really. "He's head over heels for you by the way."

Mikey scoffed. "Nice way of showing it," he grumbled. Frank eyed the court again, just when Gerard and Ray kissed triumphantly. He could feel the heat of the metaphorical spotlight on him. "How are you? With, you know."

"I don't know. Still hurts, but...I think I can get over it." Frank was proud that he honestly meant it. He didn't want to, and he wouldn't let himself get over it too soon if it could be helped, but he'd know when to move on and he could do it. He was a big boy. "I just need to not fucking see them together and try to, I don't know; focus more on my crush on that Ryan guy."

"He's dating Brendon," Mikey said. He threw his can aside.

That would be Frank's luck. "Are you kidding?"

"Well, they're fucking. I don't know if they're technically dating."

Frank groaned. "Whatever," he said but was suddenly fuming. When did his luck go to shit? "Fuck. Whatever. Maybe I should go straight. That Jamia chick is pretty cool."

"Oh my god, Frank, you can't go straight."

Mikey openly laughed, which was a rare occurrence for him when he wasn't stoned, and Frank was proud to have caused such a reaction. Pete looked over and grinned at Mikey in a way definitely reserved for Mikey and Mikey stopped laughing to grin back. Frank hated being simultaneously happy for and jealous of his best friends.

***

Monday afternoon, Frank got back from his morning class to find Ray on the couch with his laptop using Frank's laptop charger. Frank heaved his backpack onto the couch, which was heavy with the weight of his own laptop which had died while he took notes in class that morning. He stared at Ray, then crossed his arms and stared at Ray, then tapped his foot and stared at Ray then tapped his foot so hard it was like a stomp and only then did Ray look up. The confused expression on his face was adorable to say the least.

"Why are you using my laptop charger?" Frank said.

"It was here, I figured I could," Ray said. Perfectly reasonable. But after dealing with Professor I Can Get Away with Everything Because I Have Tenure so Fuck You for two hours, Frank did not have the patience.

"No one said you could," Frank said. He sprinted over and unplugged the cord from the wall before Ray could really react, then tugged until it left Ray's laptop.

"Don't be a dick," Ray said.

Frank ran down the hall to his room and only then did Ray react. Ray chased after him and Frank unlocked his door. He threw the charger carelessly at his bed and pulled the door shut, locking it hastily while Ray wrapped his arms around him to get the keys.

"Frank!" Ray shouted in their struggled. Frank kept his grasp tight on his keys, managing to slip them into the waistband of his jeans before Ray could get them from him.

"Fucking midget," Ray said, pulling away from Frank. Frank regretted the loss of Ray's strong arms around him but he'd won this battle and that's what mattered.

"Kiss my ass," Frank said.

"Bend over."

Frank rolled his eyes, bent over like a rag doll as a gag, and then heard more than felt the kiss Ray planted on his right butt cheek. Frank squealed and laughed as he jumped up.

"You're disgusting, Toro!" he said.

"Now I'm forced to go into my room and find my charger," Ray said.

The bedroom doors were usually unlocked in the suite, trust was a big thing in L325, and Ray stepped into his room across the hall with an indignant sort of flourish. Frank smiled and strutted back to the living room. He got his keys out from inside his pants and put them back in his pocket.

"The horror!" Frank called back mockingly.

He sat on the couch and picked up Ray's laptop. He scrutinized the paper Ray was writing on Priests, Princes, and Peasants in the 17th century, then decided to check out the Chrome window he had open. Facebook, Twitter, a cat video on YouTube and...oh.

"Frank," Ray said sternly, suddenly appearing next to the couch. "What are you doing?"

Frank got up and walked passed Ray, laptop in his arms. "I see you have porn open in another tab," Frank said. He wasn't judging. He found it interesting, though. Very.

"I figured I'd let it load while I worked on my paper."

Frank nodded his understanding as he hopped onto Ray's bed and connected the laptop to its cord. The idea of Ray planning to watch porn gave Frank a sick sort of intrigue and excitement. He clicked widescreen and checked that the video's gauge was pretty far along.

"Let's watch it," Frank said.

"You're kidding, right?" Ray scoffed. Frank reached over for his wrist and tugged, urging him to take a seat next to him.

"No, come on!"

"Oh god."

Frank got his earplugs out, just in case Dewees (or anyone) got back from class or lunch early, and plugged them in. Frank offered Ray one, to which Ray sighed indignantly and took a few irritating seconds to accept. Then Frank pressed play. There was the usual dumb porn banter that Frank and Ray laughed at, then the foreplay they teased. But when it was really getting going and the twink was on his back, taking it and moaning for it, they got quiet. Frank was very aware of Ray next to him, the sounds of his breaths and the heat from his arm, and he thought about Ray having him on his back like that and it didn't take long for blood to rush to his cock.

When the video was over, Ray shifted and Frank handed him his laptop. He really didn't want to know if Ray had anything going on downstairs.

"Great study break," Frank said. "Do you mind if I..."

Frank slipped his fingers under his waistband and Ray scoffed. "Yes," Ray said. Frank unbuttoned his jeans, mouth parting slightly as he lowered his hand further. Ray got the hint immediately and cranked up the urgency. "No, stop it!"

He set his laptop aside and grabbed Frank's forearm, attempting to pull his hand out. Frank doubled over and lay on his side and Ray was immediately on him, straddling him and tugging on his arm with a hand on his hip. Frank laughed, the struggle contributing to his hard-on, and took his hand out only to reach for Ray's face. Ray leaned away, grabbed Frank's wrist and pinned it to the bed. Frank was on his back now and Ray's ass was hovering above his crotch and it would take only a snap of his hips to get some desired friction. Ray was red in the face but he didn't seem angry. Frank raised his hips only slightly and Ray twisted his wrist. Which, again, went straight to his cock, but Ray didn't need to know that.

"Well that was entertaining," Frank said breathlessly. "I'm...gonna go jack off now."

Frank heaved a sigh when Ray climbed off of him. "Have fun," Ray said. He stared Frank down as Frank stood up, brushed himself off, and walked out the door.

"I'll be thinking of you," Frank said. He turned at the threshold, walking backward to his own closed door. Ray went after him, his steps slow, a coy smile on his face.

"Shut up," he said.

"I'll be thinking of you on top of me like that, fucking me raw."

Ray's eyebrows went right up. Frank had his back to his own door now. He got his keys out of his pocket and looked down to align them to the keyhole for just a second, choosing to look up and open the door blindly, and Ray was suddenly right in front of him. Frank gasped with shock, looking up from where his eyes were level to Ray's chest to the dark look in Ray's eyes.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Ray said. He pressed his body against Frank's and, yeah, Frank felt that on his hip. His hand shook and he forgot how to unlock a door. "Me pinning you down and fucking you until you can't even hear yourself scream anymore." Frank nodded slightly, eyes closing, thrusting again only to have Ray move his legs back but lower his head so his breath fell hot over Frank's ear. "You want me to mark you, fuck you sore, take you right fucking here where any of our suitemates can catch us?"

"Fuck," Frank replied, the silent 'yes' surely unnecessary as his knees buckled. He'd come in his jeans untouched before, it was an embarrassing fact of life when you're an overeager teenage boy, but this was something else. This was Ray giving him everything he'd been wanting the past few months, everything he shouldn't have wanted the last few weeks, all because they'd both gotten a little hot and bothered watching porn.

Until he stepped away, of course.

"Bye, Frankie," Ray said, smile as coy as ever. Mother fucker.

"Hey, you willing to help me out?" Frank said. He opened his bedroom door and pointed his thumb inside. A clear invitation.

"Goodbye."

Ray sounded and looked amused as he shut his door behind him. What an ass. There's another for the spank bank.

***

"You shouldn't be flirting with Ray like that, dude."

Gabe, of all people, was reprimanding Frank. Hello kettle? This is pot.

"You shouldn't be fucking William and Victoria, at the same fucking time," Frank grumbled right back, throwing his notebook in his bag. Latin American studies were interesting and all but any history class made Frank sleepy and he wanted to get out of the Humanities building ASAP and back to the dorms to take a nap.

"Hey, they don't mind," Gabe said. Even he knew that was bull.

"They don't know, asshole."

"Whatever. I don't hold hands with either of them in public. I'm not on a leash like Brendon. Or _Ray_."

Because Frank can't keep things to himself, he needed to tell someone about what had happened earlier. The first person he saw was Gabe so that was the natural choice. They'd spent class passing notes (because apparently that's still a thing you do in college, go figure) and were now exiting the building into the sun and the cool autumn air.

"It's just dumb fun, dude," Frank said. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out without looking at the screen. "Whatever. Got a call. Hello?"

"My hands are too fucking shaky to text, fuck, I hate talking on the phone like this."

It was Mikey and he sounded wrecked. Frank paused and Gabe took a few seconds before he stopped in front of him.

"Are you crying?" Frank asked. Mikey rarely let actual human emotions pass his face, let alone such strong ones that could induce real tears.

“Who is that?” Gabe mouthed.

"Can you come over?" Mikey asked weakly. Frank nodded, then rolled his eyes and told Mikey that he could, then grabbed Gabe by his jacket and ran to the dorms.

***

Mikey lived in a double in the J building, right across the quad from where Frank and Gabe lived. They didn't even bother dropping off their stuff though. They headed right to the building at J street, then realized that they didn't have keys for the building. Gabe texted Mikey that they couldn't get inside and a minute later Mikey's roommate, Vic, came down with a cigarette between his lips and let them inside before his smoke break.

Mikey's door was half open and Gabe closed it shut behind them as they entered Mikey's room. Mikey was sitting on his bed, sheets pulled up to his eyes as he rocked back and forth in a self-comforting manner, and before either Gabe or Frank could recover from shock enough to ask a question or provide comfort, Mikey was talking.

"I shouldn't be crying over him," Mikey said, and Frank understood immediately. "God, I feel like a loser. But...I told him I loved him and he went and fucked Alicia to, I don't know, pretend he's heterosexual."

"You just said a lot, Mikey," Gabe said. Mikey dropped the sheets, showing them his red eyes, and sighed as he played with the moist material.

"Pete and Alicia?" Frank asked to clarify.

"Yeah." Mikey laughed nervously, twisting the material in his fingers. "Why am I still crying, he's a dick!"

"We should go get high," Gabe said. Frank looked at him indignantly. "I'm just saying, I've got pot in my room and this is the kind of situation where I'm willing to share."

Frank looked to Mikey ready to apologize for Gabe's manners. Getting high, contrary to a belief Frank himself disproved as a junior in high school, does not solve everything. But Mikey looked thoughtful, as if Gabe's suggestion had sparked something in him.

"I have something better," Mikey murmured. He got off his bed and went to his computer desk, from where he pulled out a clear plastic bag from a drawer.

"What the fuck, is that cocaine?" Frank hissed.

"Repeat that a little louder, I don't think the RA next door heard you clearly enough," Mikey said through gritted teeth. But he looked more confident already, his back a little straighter and his face brighter.

"Why do you have coke?" Gabe said, softly as to avoid provoking Mikey's defenses again.

"Because... Because I fucking want to, Christ, are you gonna call the cops?"

Frank knew some things about Mikey that maybe he shouldn't, that maybe Gerard drunkenly told him before any relationships, romantic or otherwise, had been established. The knowledge he had made him stare warily at the bag in Mikey's hand, the look on his face, but what could Frank do?

"I'm sticking to pot," he said pliantly.

"Yeah," Gabe agreed.

"Suit yourselves," Mikey said, looking quite like the most miserable son of a bitch as he poured some of the bag's contents onto his desk.

***

After watching the almost orgasmic expression of relief on Mikey's face when he'd done a line and sat back, Gabe decided to try. Gabe Saporta would try anything once. And this odd sense of feeling left out that lingered from middle school gym class had Frank bending over the desk in front of him as well. Mikey did another line and they decided to go to the forest, because Mikey did not want to be contained.

Frank was a pretty energetic guy without the help of illicit substances so the possibility that the coke had hit didn't occur to him when they were deep enough in the forest that the sun dripping through the trees barely touched them and he thought it'd be a good idea to do some climbing. Mikey had his fingers tight around Gabe's wrist as they weaved through the trees and Frank found a tree with the right branches to climb. He wanted to maybe see how the campus looked from the top of a tree; maybe he'd find a nest somewhere.

Frank was pretty high up, hands getting blistered and jeans getting dirty, when he realized it. He felt like he was at the top of the world; he felt exhilarated. It wasn't until this high hit him that he realized how miserable he'd been before. He was the fucking king of this forest; he laughed to himself, and then looked down to let the guys know.

Gabe had Mikey pushed against a tree. From this angle Frank couldn't see what they were doing but he knew. He crouched and held onto the branch he was standing on before jumping off. He approached them and, yeah, they were kissing and it was hot. Frank wanted to touch; his hands were shaking, his skin felt hot despite how cold the forest was mid-November. It was a desperate and messy kiss, Gabe's hands on the tree bark on either side of Mikey's head and Mikey fingering the bark with white knuckles and red fingers. Jackets and hoodies were abandoned on the ground.

Frank squeezed an arm between them, lifting Mikey's shirt just enough to feel his hipbone, then burrowed under Gabe's arm to attack Mikey's clavicle. Mikey was skin and bone and heat and he tasted so good. He moaned with need against Gabe's lips and Frank dug into his hip with his nails, causing him to buck, and Gabe gasped.

"You taste good, Mikey," Frank confided then bit down hard on Mikey's collarbone. Mikey whimpered and Gabe pressed forward, squishing Frank's arm, deepening the kiss.

Frank watched with intrigue, grinning at his friends. They were so pretty, especially together. Frank hadn't kissed anyone since Gerard and Frank wondered if Mikey was as good a kisser. He lifted Mikey's shirt, rubbed his belly, and licked the corner of Gabe and Mikey's lips asking permission for entry. Gabe broke away and attacked Mikey's neck, leaving Mikey to immediately kiss Frank. Yes, the kissing skill seemed to be genetic. The Ways were good kissers. Frank had proof.

Frank kissed Mikey feverishly and they were both growing breathless by the time Mikey had the sense to reach for Frank's jeans. Frank looked down, saw Gabe slipping his fingers under the waistband of Mikey's underwear, having at some point tugged his jeans just past his hips. Mikey moaned as he shakily attempted to undo Frank's zipper. Frank helped eagerly, shoving his half-hard cock into Mikey's hand and biting his shoulder when he squeezed teasingly, then stroked with purpose.

"Fuck, Gabe," Mikey gasped. "William told me you have a talented tongue."

Mikey didn't have to order the silent ‘prove it’. Frank and Gabe both heard it and Gabe was on his knees a second later. Frank's hips stuttered into Mikey's hand and he looked down, watched Mikey's cock slip passed Gabe's obscenely wide and waiting pink lips and Frank had the sudden urge to touch again, to be on his knees for someone, to do more than get a strangely angled hand job.

"Hey, Gabe, you wanna share?" Frank asked shakily. Mikey swore and Gabe moaned. Frank pulled back, cock slipping from Mikey's fingers which now clutched at the tree bark again.

Frank tucked himself away, hissing, and sunk to his knees. He helped hold down Mikey's hips while Gabe sucked, one hand on one side of his hips as Gabe held the other. Mikey groaned. Frank leaned down and lapped at Mikey's balls, sucking them into his mouth before moving to lick what Gabe couldn't reach with. Mikey moaned a little louder, his hips stuttering uselessly against their force. Frank was way too high strung when Gabe reached over to pull his cock out, deliberately slow with the strokes of his hand. Frank fucked into Gabe's hand, licking Mikey's sensitive skin. Mikey's breathing was getting more and more labored as they worked him and his fingers curled into Frank's hair, tugging hard. Frank moaned; that was really it for him. He thrust into Gabe's hand a few times then came all over the wet dirt of the forest, a little on Gabe's hand.

Frank gripped Mikey's hip hard enough to bruise as he lapped weakly at his balls. He felt them draw up, heard Mikey let out a long and low moan, and rested his head on Mikey's abs to watch Gabe's eyebrows furrow. He pulled away and spat Mikey's come, giving Frank the opportunity to step over and lick the head of Mikey's cock greedily.

"Fuck," Mikey said, laughing. He shoved at Frank's shoulder and Frank fell back, tucking himself away again.

Gabe pulled Mikey forcefully away from the tree and rested against it himself, pushing his jeans down and pulling his untouched cock out on display. Mikey was quick to get on his knees and Frank laughed into Gabe's ear, touching his arm and his belly and kissing his neck and his jaw. Frank swallowed Gabe's moans, his hand stroking what Mikey's eager mouth couldn't reach. Mikey looked gorgeous with his eyelashes on his cheeks and a cock between his lips and Frank alternated between watching him work and kissing Gabe's moans away.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Gabe said, arching away from the tree and fucking into Mikey's mouth. His hand clutched Frank's hair hard enough to get his cock interested again.

"Hot," Frank said gleefully and Gabe groaned, going completely still. Mikey swallowed.

***

Gabe had a lot more self-control than Frank so he sat on Frank the next morning and told him, sternly, that they were not going to go after more cocaine.

"It's fucking killing me, dude," Frank said miserably. "It was your idea to try it, fuck, you wanna see the scratches in my arm?"

"It's all in your head," Gabe said. He smacked Frank's ear when he grumbled a response. "If I can do it, you can too."

"Mikey's always on the shit and he's fine."

"Is he fine, really?"

Good question.

Either Mikey was religiously avoiding them or they were being paranoid as fuck. (Gee, could that have anything to do with withdrawal?) Still, it was the talk of their inner circles: Mikey was a miserable mess, Pete didn't seem to give a fuck, and Gabe and Frank were quote unquote acting weird.

There were arguments about the Mikey-Pete-Alicia scandal. It was a back and forth. They were never in an exclusive relationship so it wasn't cheating, some said. It was countered with, well, Pete didn't think it was exclusive but we all know how he feels about commitment and how Mikey feels about him. Frank was pleased to see Ray and Gerard on different sides of the argument, even if Frank didn't agree with Ray's opinion. (He's overreacting; he needs to get over himself.)

Wednesday afternoon in class, Frank sat next to Alicia.

"Hi," he said, big grin on his face. She sighed.

"I don't need to be harassed by anymore of Mikey's friends, okay? I get it," she said, brushing her long black hair out of her face. “Not like a fucking knew they were together.”

The professor gave her a wary look. Frank felt obligated as Mikey’s friend to say something but the fire wasn’t very strong; it wasn’t his business and he dropped the subject before they really got on it.

Anyway, things were tense and awkward in the suite and by Wednesday afternoon Frank was exhausted. Frank got back after his class and threw his backpack carelessly onto the couch, where Bob looked up from his book and scowled. Frank flipped him off and continued down the hall to the bathroom. He'd wash his face, go to his room for a nap, get a late dinner, and procrastinate his homework until 3am. Typical Wednesday.

Frank was tearing his t-shirt off at the door to the bathroom when he saw it. Huge, black, and menacing, floating from the door frame and swinging, looking at Frank like a meal. Frank screamed.

A few of the suite were there but Ray was the first to rush down the hall and find Frank cowering in a corner. When he saw the cause, he laughed. He pulled off one of his sneakers and smacked the spider down with it and Frank squealed as it crawled toward him. But Ray stomped on it, digging his foot down like he did with cigarettes his friends left behind, and lifted his foot to show the mutilated body sinking into the carpet. Frank immediately jumped into Ray's arms, like the maiden in distress he was at heart.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Frank breathed onto Ray's ear, on his tip-toes. Ray laughed against his neck, rubbing Frank's back, sending chills up his spine as his cold hands massaged his skin.

"You are such a girl," Ray said. Frank leaned away and smacked Ray's chest.

Frank made a show of standing a little straighter and puffing out his chest as he went into the bathroom. Someone was in a shower; he shook the curtain and it was Dewees on the other side who groaned at him to fuck off. He chose a sink and bent over it, quickly washing cold water over his face.

"I really like your tattoo," Ray said, standing against the door frame. Frank beamed. He was referring to the jack-o-lantern on his back that he'd gotten a couple weeks ago on his birthday.

"Thanks," Frank said. He stood up and scrutinized his friend. "I really like your face."

"It is a nice face."

Frank brought a hand up to Ray's nice face and Ray leaned against it a little. This senseless, stupid flirting had been going on for a while but mostly right now what Frank wanted was a fight. He knew Ray could beat him to a pulp if he was really trying but not if they were just messing around so he hit Ray's cheek hard enough to insinuate something but soft enough that Ray understood what was happening.

"Did you just slap me?" Ray said. He looked mock-shocked.

"Maybe," Frank said, folding his arms. Ray pressed his fingers to Frank's shoulder and put just enough pressure to make him take half a step back. Frank was indignant. "Did you just shove me?"

Ray shrugged, mimicking Frank's stance. "Maybe."

They end up slap fighting because they really are still children as much as they like to feign adulthood, moving further into the bathroom and toward the stalls as they sent their hits. But it got more intense as it happens with Frank, who decided to punch Ray with intent in his side. Ray took his arm, twisted behind his back and slammed him against the wall. It was exhilarating and exactly what Frank needed after the past couple of exhausting weeks and Frank twisted, reached a foot back that made contact with Ray's shin, and with a swear from Ray they were both on the ground. Ray was on his knees on the cold, white-tiled bathroom floor and Frank would have fallen on his face were it not for the arm suddenly around his neck. Frank clenched his free hand into fist and balanced on his knuckles.

Ray's arm flexed around his neck, his forearm putting delicious pressure on his throat. Frank gasped as Ray lifted him back, scrambling for purchase with the toes of his shoes and managing to get on his knees. It was an awkward position, both kneeling and against the wall with their legs between each other. Frank didn't mind it. In fact, he liked it very much. He held Ray's arm with his free hand but didn't make to move away at all, taking in few breaths. The loss of oxygen made him dizzy and the high that came along with it was all too familiar. He thrusted his hips for friction that couldn't exist, leaning against Ray and feeling his heat, moaning as spots appeared in his vision.

"Shit," Ray said suddenly, and let go of Frank.

Without the support, Frank fell forward. He held out his hand but it fell from under him and he was on his side on the tile, staring at the stall door and gasping for breath. He closed his eyes, wanting to smile but feeling weak. One arm burned from where Ray had held it.

"Shit, Frank, I'm sorry," Ray said. Oh, the typical Toro Concern. Frank chuckled when Ray hovered over him, inspecting him and his neck. "I guess I...I mean, I grew up with four brothers so I'm used to... Are you okay? You didn't tell me to stop."

Frank moved his hips forward, rubbed his crotch against Ray's knee. "I didn't want you to," Frank said. Ray looked down and his eyes widened in understanding.

"Oh. _Oh_. Right. Wow."

"What is going on over there?" Dewees said. Ray fell on his ass and Frank curled in on himself, laughing. They hadn't noticed when the shower turned off; Dewees stood there in a towel, dripping wet and scrutinizing his roommate.

"Nothing!" Ray said as Frank continued to laugh. His high was wearing off but his hard-on wasn't. Dewees gave them an unsure glare, and then exited the bathroom.

Ray sat against the toilet stall, Frank against the wall. He willed his erection away; Ray stared at his crotch, not subtle at all, then up at Frank's eyes. Frank wondered if he remembered about the rope, if he'd noticed what Pete had.

"So...that's pretty kinky, Frank," Ray said.

"Sure is, Gerard's boyfriend," Frank snapped. Ray rolled his eyes. He stood up and offered Frank his hand. Frank took it and stood gracelessly, walking awkwardly out of the bathroom.

"I'll make sure not to make a habit out of choking you," Ray said, low and in Frank's ear. They stopped in front of Frank's door and Frank leaned against it, Ray with one hand over his shoulder.

"I think you should," Frank said.

It was a lame line, he knew, but they couldn't even attempt to deny whatever chemistry they had that made every lame line either of them pulled good enough for the other. Ray smiled and it was infectious and Frank's eyes crossed as Ray drew closer. For a second Gerard flashed into his consciousness and he felt guilty but this was Ray and he wanted Ray and nothing else mattered. Ray's other hand brushed his hip and his lips brushed his when they both heard someone clearing their throat. Frank sighed when Ray pulled away and Gabe looked between them suspiciously as he walked through them to get to the bathroom.

"See ya," Ray said, going across the hall to his own room.

It was time for Frank's nap anyway.

***

The next night they ordered Chinese food for family dinner. There was no video game playing because this was an intervention. From the love seat, Pete chewed on lo mein as his suitemates stared him down.

Gabe was the first to speak.

"Mikey is really depressed and it's all your fault," he said. He didn't have to look at Pete for him to know the comment was directed to him and it wasn't what the group had agreed on. Frank, who was sitting between Gabe's legs on the floor, elbowed him in the shin. Gabe kicked him.

"Can we seriously stop talking about this?" Pete said, surely exasperated by the endless barrage of comments the last few days. "Can we talk about Ryan and Brendon instead?"

"We should hang out with them more," Frank said thoughtfully, still thinking of that one drunken kiss he shared with Brendon at the start of the year.

"We should but that's not the point," Bob said. He was sitting next to Gabe, perfect position to kick Frank's knee. Next to him, Dewees scoffed. Ray was standing between the couches, shaking his head and smiling as he bit through an egg roll.

"What the fuck do you want me to do?" Pete said. They expected him to get defensive, angry. "Unfuck Alicia? There's no undo button, no goddamn reset."

"You still haven't told us why you did it," Ray said. He was of the opinion that Pete didn't necessarily do anything wrong but everyone was angry with him and Ray was good friends with Mikey.

"Because it's none of your business!" Pete shouted. Frank nodded. He wasn't in favor of this intervention whatsoever; he thought it was a dumb idea. Pete was red in the face and he doesn't stop talking once you get him started. "I hate that I hurt Mikey, okay, I really do. I just didn't know how to feel being in love with a guy, I mean, this never..."

There was a gasp, dropping of utensils, and all eyes that had been casually looking about were now on Pete, food forgotten. For a moment Pete looked confused; he didn't seem to understand what had caused the sudden change. Frank was going to explode with excitement, the romantic in him ready to reach for his phone and text Mikey ASAP.

"Oh my god!" he said, and a look of realization flashed Pete's face.

"Shit," he said slumping his shoulders and readying himself for the onslaught.

"You have to tell him!"

"Fuck, Mikey is not gonna like it. I'm sorry I cheated on you, let's get married."

"Whatever, this'll fix everything."

"No way, dude, Pete needs to fix this first and then tell him."

"Mikey isn't as romantic as Frank, it isn't going to do anything for Pete to tell him that."

"Hey!" Frank said defensively. He looked at Pete. Then they all looked at Pete, who was twirling his noodles with his fork.

"I can't tell him," he said.

The suitemates groaned and the barrage of random comments – what to do, what not to do, what an idiot he was, how perfect he was with Mikey – continued, only louder and more insistent.

"I'm not...I can't," Pete said, his hands shaky.

Frank intervened before anyone else could say anything. He knew this, he'd felt this—the queer freak out. He set his plate on the table, grabbed Pete's plate, then took Pete's wrist and led him away. Their suitemates grumbled but Frank sat Pete down at his desk, with the plate in his lap, and folded his arms.

"Pete," he said. Pete looked at the floor.

"Mikey'll get over it, find someone new," Pete said. "Someone he deserves."

"This self-pity queer freak out is getting old. You like him or you don't. You go for it or you don't. He'll forgive you. But not if you cower away."

Pete shrugged. He played with his food again, never looking up.

"If you feel inadequate, just imagine how he feels," Frank said. He stormed out of the room and reentered the common area.

Four pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly. He shrugged, sat on Ray's lap (he'd taken Pete's seat), and kept on eating.

"How about Halo?" Frank suggested.

Dewees left to get his game. They all chatted about their classes and their latest fucks. Ray fingered Frank's hip; Frank relaxed under his touch.

***

The band comprised of the Way brothers and their friends (as they'd been known) had managed to snag a show at the Dent for a date a couple weeks after Fall Out Boy's show, on the night of the last day of classes (also known as the last Friday before finals). They feared a not-great turnout, since it was close enough to finals that people would actually start caring about their grades (or would rather have a big blow out party than watch some shitty band play), but decided to steal a room in the music building Saturday afternoon for a jam session in anticipation nonetheless. The turnout for the jam session was exceptional, however; freshmen and seniors alike scattered the floor and bleachers, all waiting to find out this new band's name. This band some said were better than Fall Out Boy, while others said were lame in comparison.

Frank was excited. Ray tuned his guitar and Bob beat his drums. Gerard had an arm around a bummed out Mikey, whispered in his ear, while Mikey nodded absently and tuned his bass. Frank watched them, and then watched Ray, as he played chords to songs everyone knew to get them riled up for the session. They sang along and danced at their spots and Frank grinned. It was like their first real show; since it was more than just their friends and they had a few good songs already done and a band name to unveil. Frank loved the band name; Mikey was a genius for coming up with it. He should be excited too but one sweep of the room told Frank why he wasn't: the suite was there, so was Gabe's crew. Every one of their friends and more, but no Pete.

Frank caught the nod Gerard got from Ray, who got back to his place. Gerard went to the mic stand and slowly everyone turned away from their conversations to look to the band and cheer.

"What's up, mother fuckers?" Gerard said to the crowd, tone totally casual. Gerard smirked, Frank smiled and Ray played a quick little riff. "We...are MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE!!!"

Bob beat his drums as the few dozen onlookers cheered. Frank's heart pumped excited adrenaline through him. His hands were shaking and his cheeks hurt he was smiling so much. Gerard removed the mic from its stand, wrapped the cord around his wrist a few times, and Frank waited for him to start singing so they could get this fucking show going.

"We could be perfect one last night!" Gerard shouted.

The music roared with him and the crowd bopped, those on bleachers nodding their heads or whispering to each other while those on the floor jumped and shoved at each other. Frank threw his body around, went into the crowd and had them push him back, jumped in front of a still Mikey who smiled at his attempt for attention. The first song was quick and dirty and everyone stood and applauded, stomping feet and howling. Frank was sweaty and breathless and felt incredible.

The next song was a little longer but everyone was just as into it. Frank threw himself at Ray, who Frank noticed Gerard wasn't quite all over the way he'd been before. Ray smiled at him sheepishly. Then Frank took it upon himself to get on everyone. He jumped to the music and walked around the drums to lean heavily on Bob, then ran up the bleachers and yelled at people, then ran into the moshers on the floor, his guitar's cord getting tangled. All the while Bob played deep in concentration, Mikey looking away dejectedly unless he was laughing at Frank, Ray rocking out and playing impossible things, and Gerard strutting around and singing his heart out. Frank felt alive, the drama seeping out of his pores and onto the floor.

At the third song, something unthinkable happened. Gerard walked around Frank and tied the mic's cord around his neck. It happened so quickly Frank didn't have a chance to protest. Then, Gerard leaned pointedly away and the cord went taut around Frank's throat. He gasped and threw his head back, for a moment feeling embarrassed; he did not need to get a hard-on during this jam session. But Gerard crept behind Frank and snaked a hand around his hips, down to the bulge of his pants. Making it worse.

"Fuck," Frank said. It went through the mic near his lips as Gerard sang. If anyone noticed, they loved it; at the end of the song, there was an exuberant uproar.

For the next few songs Frank was left hot and bothered and wondering why. He didn't dare look at Ray but Mikey looked shocked, Bob could not care less, and Gerard just smirked when their gazes met.

When they'd exhausted the songs they'd written, Gerard stood breathless and sweaty in the middle of the room.

"Thanks for coming!" he said. "We're playing at the Dent in a few weeks...fucking be there!"

Frank approached immediately as people started to file out and the others started to pack away their things. "What was that?" he had to ask.

"Excites the crowd," Gerard said with a shrug.

"You could've done that to Ray."

"Can we fucking talk?" Ray interjected. He was fuming.

"Ray, I didn't—" Frank started, feeling guilty for something that had been totally out of his control. Ray rolled his eyes and grabbed Gerard's wrist.

"Not mad at you," Ray called back as they turned away.

Frank sighed. He put his guitar in its case and got to hauling cords. Mikey approached him as he wheeled an amp to the staircase.

"They've been fighting a lot lately," he said. "Gerard probably did that to piss Ray off."

Frank felt a little guilty for the glimmer of hope Mikey's words gave him. Just a little.

"The question is, are we cool?" Frank asked.

Mikey looked around suspiciously at passersby with equipment, and then whispered in Frank's ear, "You helped make me come. We are more than cool."

Frank smirked. Of course.

***

The following Tuesday was an exceptionally cold and windy day. Frank had on a huge coat with the fake fur-lined hood drawn around his head so he didn't notice anyone fall into step with him until a hand was waved in his face. He recognized the hand and surely enough when he looked up he saw Ray. He smiled brightly as they walked, but Ray didn't reciprocate. His lips twitched with an attempt of a smile but it seemed to take more effort than it should.

Frank didn't plan to reveal his concerns until they got into their dorm and safe from the howling wind. They made it to building L and Ray had his key ready to let them in. When he opened the door and they'd turned into the staircase, he spoke up before Frank did.

"So I broke up with Gerard," Ray said.

Christmas had come early it seemed. Frank inhaled sharply and used all his energy not to smile. Ray was upset by it, obviously. He needed a friend right now.

"Oh?" Frank said. Casual as fuck.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

They landed on the third floor and Ray sighed as they walked down the hall. "Well, when we started fighting about the whole Mikey-Pete-Alicia scandal, we started fighting about a lot of things," he said. Frank nodded. He'd heard as much from Mikey. "It was kind of stupid. It was a mutual break up, actually. We thought it'd be better for the band."

Good friends sympathize, Frank told himself. Sound sorry. "Oh," he said.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Frank didn't think Ray needed more than that. He seemed more relaxed already, just having it out in the open. When they got to their suite, the door was locked. Ray opened it and Frank rushed to his room to throw off his coat.

"Anyone home?" Ray called.

Of course not. Frank stood in front of his door as Ray dropped off his stuff. When Ray walked back out, Frank struck a pose. Ray smiled but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I guess it's just the two of us," Frank teased, throwing his head back and putting his weight uncomfortably on the door frame.

Ray approached him slowly. "Yeah," he said, tone weird and voice strangely breathy. Frank watched him approach, detaching himself from the door frame as Ray invaded his personal space. Frank held his breath and suddenly Ray's lips were on his, as soft as Frank imagined they would be. They kissed slowly at first, like testing the waters, but Frank wasn't one for doing something half-assed. He kissed Ray with fervor, aiming to get him breathless and leave him wanting. When Ray pulled away, he breathed heavily against Frank's cheek and Frank smiled. Then Ray turned to leave, a blush on his face.

"Oh, no," Frank said. He reached for Ray's wrist then walked backward into his room. "You are not going anywhere."

Frank didn't want to be a rebound. But Ray looked a little lost and helpless and he followed along without question. He kicked the door shut behind them and leaned down to kiss Frank again, this time reciprocating the earlier fervor tenfold. This was what Frank had been dying for, what they'd been close to so many times. They kissed clumsily, tripping over clothes as they maneuvered to Frank's bed and then they were horizontal with Frank wrapping his arms tight around Ray and pulling him so close he thought they might melt into each other.

They kissed each other breathless. There was some curious hip action, some gasped moans. There was an energy of need, Ray vulnerable with his heart break and needing to remember he was wanted while Frank lost in his loneliness wanted to remember he was needed. Then Ray's lips brushed his jaw and found his throat, which he kissed and bit and suckled with greed. Frank sighed contentedly, fingers on Ray's shirt riding it up until he could feel the warm skin of Ray's strong back under his hands. Ray moaned and hearing that sound from those lips reverberate on his throat made Frank wild with want. He never wanted to be anywhere but under this body again.

Which of course is why there was a knock on his door. Frank and Ray both stilled, Ray's breath hot on Frank's skin and Frank staring at the ceiling with wide eyes, his heart beating way too fast for his liking.

"Frank?" Mikey said. Ray rolled off of Frank's bed and Frank swore under his breath. "I know Pete's in class right now. Wanna hang out?"

They could just pretend there was no one here and wait for him to get bored. Ray looked at Frank disapprovingly, as if he'd read Frank's mind and didn't like his plan. He went to the door and Frank stood up hastily, patting himself down and working on washing sex out of his head.

Ray opened the door and Mikey's meek smile turned into an accusatory glare.

"Let's hang out," Ray said decidedly. Frank threw an arm around Mikey's shoulders and rushed him out.

***

They walked quietly to the Hammocks, which was a bad idea. It was really too cold out for it but Mikey, in a hoodie, insisted. Frank was all bundled up in his coat again. Gerard was waiting at the opening when they got there and he shared a look with Ray like they were going to talk a long time. So Frank grabbed a hammock near the entrance with Mikey and the other two disappeared to the farthest hammock from them.

"It really bummed me out that Ray and Gerard split because of me," Mikey said softly against Frank's ear once they were settled, hammock swaying slowly under their combined weight. Mikey had insisted that Frank take off his coat, which was now covering them both.

"It wasn't because of you," Frank said. His breath hitched when Mikey's cold fingers lifted Frank's shirt, dragging across his skin.

"It kind of was." Mikey looked over his shoulder, to where Ray and Gerard lay. He sighed. "Anyway, I hope they work it out. They're so good together."

Frank wondered if Mikey invited Gerard knowing that Ray would end up joining them too. Was Mikey really that devious a matchmaker? Did he manage to get his brother back together with his ex but not work it out with his own?

"Did Pete tell you?" Frank asked curiously. Mikey hummed against Frank's neck, his arm slithering up his torso under his shirt.

"Tell me what?" Mikey replied. He sounded dreamy, lost in thought or close to sleep, but his hand was definitely moving with intent. Frank's body jolted when Mikey's fingers brushed a nipple and he bit his lip before continuing.

"We told him to tell you."

Vague enough to catch Mikey's attention. Mikey cocked a brow but continued playing with Frank's nipple, then moving his hand across Frank's chest for the other. The warmth amidst the late autumn air and the proximity to another person made Frank squirm, especially when Mikey decided to straddle his leg and rub his thigh against Frank's crotch. Frank was still half hard from earlier and he bit back a moan.

"What?" Mikey said, voice steady. Too steady. "What did the fucker do now?"

"He told us he loved you," Frank said, arching his back

"What?"

"Yeah."

Mikey stopped and moved his body back to a less compromising position, no longer straddling any part of Frank and arm now innocently over his shirt. "And here I am trying to get with you," Mikey said.

"My nipples are super sensitive, dude."

Frank whimpered when suddenly Mikey's hand went between his legs and cupped him through his jeans. Mikey seemed thoughtful, dejected as he pressed his palm against Frank's dick.

"You know what, we can still get together if you want and not tell Pete so we can be even," Mikey said. He kissed Frank's jaw, then his clavicle.

Frank, despite loving the attention, frowned. He'd just told Mikey something he needed to hear and sex was still the first thing on his mind? Sure, it would be hot and it was needed but a few weeks ago Mikey was in this very spot with Pete and a few hours ago Mikey was devastated over Pete and his sexual endeavors. It was very possible that Frank hated hypocrisy more than he liked sex, which was saying something.

"First of all, that's low," Frank said, twitching under Mikey's ministrations. "Being secretly even. Second of all, you kind of did get with me already."

Mikey stopped and looked at him almost angrily; Frank took the chance to steady his breathing.

"That doesn't count," Mikey said. "I wouldn't have done it sober."

"But you weren't sober," Frank said. "You dragged us into that forest."

It was a little unfair, Frank knew, but Mikey looked increasingly indignant and Frank wasn't stopping until Mikey understood that sex, like it was that afternoon in the forest, was not the answer to his problem.

"It doesn't count," Mikey said, jaw locked and look harsh.

"So, wait, it's okay for you to get blowjobs from us and give us blowjobs but Pete sleeping with Alicia is bad? You're a fucking hypocrite, Mikey."

Mikey rolled off the hammock and stormed away. Frank sighed, let the hammock swing for a minute before throwing on his coat and approaching the hammock where...Ray and Gerard were making out. Fuck. Frank cleared his throat once, then a second time when they ignored him. Gerard looked up, cheeks red and lips swollen, and Ray pressed his lips to Gerard's shoulder.

"What happened?" Gerard said. Frank did a motion with his hand and mumbled something about Mikey being upset. "Shit, I should go after him."

With a final peck for Ray, Gerard quickly got off and went away. Frank took his spot and he laid there with Ray, staring at the blue sky through the trees. The hammock swung and the wind howled and Ray sighed, curling his fingers comfortingly around Frank's wrist.

"I always fuck shit up," Frank lamented.

"Yeah," Ray agreed. Frank laughed, and then curled into Ray's side. His eyes stung and he breathed shakily against Ray's shoulder. "We're back together."

Frank laughed nervously. "Kick a guy while he's down," he mumbled. Ray patted his back, kissed his forehead, and rubbed Frank's wrist rhythmically.

***

The next afternoon the boys of suite L325 were awkward and quiet, like they needed a break from the bullshit but weren't really sure how to act completely normal again. Frank was huddled with Franny and Zooey on the love seat, Gabe sitting on the floor in front of him; Ray was lying on the couch with his head in Dewees' lap while he played Halo with Gabe, Dewees texting relentlessly; Bob had gone out somewhere and Pete was locked away in his room. There was a knock on the door and the 4 suitemates looked up, watching expectantly as it opened.

"Is Pete here?" Mikey said, flushed. He avoided eye contact with Frank, eyes raking over the others.

"Yeah," Dewees said unsurely.

"Pete!" His shout startled the others. He waited all of 5 seconds, arms crossed and foot tapping, until he turned toward the hallway and called again, louder this time. "PETE!"

One of the doors down the hall opened. Gabe paused the game. They all watched intently as a groggy Pete, rubbing his eyes, approached a determined and excited Mikey.

"Mikey, what—" he started, but was interrupted by Mikey surging forward and kissing him.

The applause was delayed by the shock but when Pete wrapped his arms around Mikey's thin waist, there was an excited uproar. Mikey held Pete's face in his hands as they kissed, soft and slow and longing, and when they broke apart, foreheads still touching, Pete laughed with relief.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he said. Mikey shook his head.

"Shut up," he said, kissed him again.

"I love you. I fucking love you Mikey."

Another kiss. "Love you too."

"Okay, that's enough," Gabe said, unpausing the game and proceeding to shoot Ray up.

"What the fuck!" Ray called.

Frank watched Pete and Mikey smile wistfully at each other and clasp their hands together. They turned away, down the hall and toward Pete's bedroom, but before Mikey disappeared his eyes locked on Frank. Frank's eyebrows went up and the corner of Mikey's lips twitched. Frank knew they were okay.

***

Class was cancelled Wednesday which meant it was the day Frank was doing homework. He tapped his fingers on his desk as he stared at his computer screen, reading and rereading things he'd written whilst explosions of laughter from the common area distracted him. He tried to ignore his friends laughing and playing video games but the urge to procrastinate combined with how badly the paper was written made him groan in frustration and storm out of his room.

"I only have 8 and a half pages written!" Frank said. It's irrelevant, and the guys look at him weirdly, but he continues. "It's supposed to be 10 pages and I only have 8 and a half! I'm gonna fail, I'm gonna fail and lose my scholarship and I'm gonna blame all you fucks—" Frank pointed an accusatory finger at everyone in the common area in turn "—for your alcohol and video games."

Frank kicked over a beer can and Bob pouted from his seat on the floor. "We're playing tennis!" he said.

"Turn the volume down and shut the fuck up!"

Frank stormed away, leaving behind a murmur of, ‘Someone should go talk to him,’ and threw himself on his bed. He heard footsteps come after him and his bed dipped as the person climbed on.

"You okay?" It was Ray. Frank turned onto his side and scowled at him.

"Stressed out," he admitted.

"Take a break," Ray said, patting his hip. "You work way too hard."

Frank turned over onto his stomach again. "I know," he grumbled, words muffled by the pillow.

Ray got up. Frank heard the click of the lock then Ray lied down next to him. Frank kept his breathing even as Ray turned toward him and started tracing his spine. Tail bone to the base of his neck, fingers putting just the right amount of pressure to make Frank relax against the sheets.

"You're a terrible boyfriend," Frank said, but didn't resist.

"I'm a good suitemate," Ray said. Frank scoffed. "Just relax, dude. Take a nap or something."

And surprisingly the order worked. Frank drifted off, focusing on the sway of Ray's fingers, but his eyes snapped open almost immediately. He stared at Ray.

"You kissed me," Frank said.

"Sleep," said Ray softly.

"You kissed me and you keep sending me signals and you locked the door. Why?"

"You're one of my best friends, you know?"

"Stop being a cryptic asshole."

"I don't know, Frank. Alright? I don't know."

But from the expression on Ray's face, Frank suspected Ray did know and didn't want to accept it. Frank frowned.

"Just...relax," Ray said. "Okay? You deserve a break."

Frank did deserve a break. He scooted over and Ray let him nuzzle up to his throat, breathe him in and feel the heat of another person next to him. He sighed contentedly. Ray moved to brush his jaw with his lips and Frank seeked him out, cheeks brushing until their mouths fit into each other. Just for a moment. Frank relaxed, then sunk into Ray again.

"Huh," Frank said.

"Friends can kiss platonically," Ray defended right away. "Kissing is nice and you're freaking yourself out. Just being a friend."

Frank chuckled and shook his head. "That's why you locked the door. So we could _platonically kiss_ without Bob storming in to disapprove."

" _Sleep_."

And Frank did.

***

That Friday was Fall Out Boy's show at the Dent. They crossed the freshmen dorm parking lot and headed to the building, striped green and white with the school colors. Mikey had gone ahead but the others – Bob, Dewees, Dewees' girl, Gabe, Hayley, Ryan, Brendon, Gerard, Ray, and Frank – had fallen back at the suite to pregame. It was almost 11 and Frank was already edging near drunk, feeling excess energy as their group settled into line outside of the Dent. The night air was chilly and filled with excitement.

"Love a punk show," Frank said, hopping slightly in place.

"They're gonna kill it," Ray said. Frank beamed at him.

"Hell yeah they are! We're gonna kill it more, though, when it's our turn."

"Fuck you guys, I'm starting a band with the Farros and we're gonna kill it come Savage Festival," Hayley said. The boys in the group groaned. Their future band and the music festival in the spring was all Hayley could talk about.

"The Farros are hot," Frank said.

As it was whenever Gerard was with Ray and Frank was looking at Ray, Gerard needed to mark his territory. This time he chose to slide his fingers over Ray's throat and kiss his jaw, distracting him from what he was going to enthusiastically reply to Frank. Frank turned away, moving forward with the line.

"Rumor has it you're dating them," Gabe said, nudging Hayley's side. The group laughed when Hayley smacked his arm and they all broke into conversations about cheating, open relationships, and polyamory.

The Dent, a bastardized version of a student center, had many functions: an indoor skate park, an arcade, a concert venue, a small concert venue, an event venue. Basically anything the students were interested in. The main area, taking up the bulk of the building, had the ramps and video games and a stage for big events but punk shows happened in one of the rooms. The members of the group flashed their student IDs to the event coordinators in turn and waved at skaters, then went straight to the room that held about a hundred people where Fall Out Boy were setting up. Frank broke away from everyone and skipped over to where Pete and Mikey were in a corner, wrapping his arms around their necks.

"I'm so excited," Frank said. Mikey smiled genuinely, the way he had been for days, and Frank beamed.

"You're so drunk," Pete slurred.

About a minute later, Pete was called onto the stage – the stage being the front of the room, behind where a line was drawn on the floor with tape. Most of the group Frank had pregamed with was toward the back but Mikey was in the front with Frank, staring at his boyfriend with pride.

"Where is your boy tonight? I hope he is a gentleman," Patrick sang beautifully into the mic. Frank remembered this song from the jam sessions and mouthed along to the words. "Maybe he won't find out what I know. You were the last good thing about this part of town."

The guitar started, then the band kicked in and the floor went wild. Being from a tiny town in Jersey where basement shows were the norm, Frank felt totally in his element with just about a dozen other people to shove him around and push against. The set went by quickly for him: he watched Pete and Mikey make out between songs, gave Andy the finger, shoved Joe a couple times, screamed into Patrick's mic. All the while being one of the minority that was thrashing around in the group of maybe 70 that were on the floor instead of the bleachers in the back. He got a few punches in and received some himself, shoving and jumping and opening his mouth when a really cute guy offered him some water that turned out to be rum. He thought maybe he kissed a person or two but by the end of the 35 minute set, his heart was pumping and the crowd was spilling out of the room and cheering, and the alcohol had all but muddled his brain.

"You guys are great," Frank said with an arm around Joe's neck. "That was great."

"Thanks," Joe said. He was sweaty and breathless and obviously a little drunk too and he managed to support Frank's weight while putting his guitar away. "The Dent coordinator said she might let us play once a month."

"Wow. Cool! You know we're playing in a few weeks? My Chemmm...ical Romance?"

"So looking forward to that, dude."

Plenty of people helped haul shit back to the van. Frank watched; no one would let him touch anything. Mikey left with the band and didn't come back. Dewees left with his girl, Gabe cornered Hayley and they were making out by a fire exit, Gerard and Ray were playing Mrs. Pac Man, Brendon was trying to teach Ryan to skateboard. Frank felt a little confused and lonely but when the next band started he ran back into the room and lost himself again.

***

It seemed Frank was planning on spending the weekend perpetually drunk because the next day he drank to get over his hangover and stumbled to Senior Village without having really felt it. Many others stumbled down the streets of Senior Village and Frank was pretty sure he'd gone with his suitemates but ended up alone against a wall in a stranger's living room hugging a solo cup, watching a game of beer pong. He cheered for the girl in the leopard-print dress and her friend in the leather pants whilst booing their opponents, the guys that would be in frats if this damn school had frats. Someone stood deliberately next to him and leaned against him for a good minute before Frank looked up questioningly.

"Matt Robin!" Frank shouted.

"Rubano," the cutecutecute guy corrected with a slanted smile. Christ.

"I don't care. Let's make out."

So they made out. Then Frank wanted a smoke but didn't want to lose Matt again like last time so he grabbed Matt's wrist and dragged him away from the heavy metal party to a bench outside. He looked around for his friends as he lit a cigarette. Matt kissed his neck and it was kinda gross and he couldn't stop thinking about the last person that did it to him.

"Ray's probably already skipped out and gone to junior village to fuck his boyfriend," Frank lamented. Matt moaned a response and clamped his teeth down. Frank chuckled. "All my...all my friends are getting paired off and I just wanna get fucked or something."

Matt sighed against Frank's skin and turned away. Frank stared at his lit cigarette in surprise and brought it to his mouth. "Dude, I'm sure it'll be a blast to hear you talk about your problems," Matt said, "but I am too not-sober to care about more than your dick."

Frank nodded. "You got an apartment on this street?"

"Couple streets down."

It was quick and unsatisfying but they exchanged numbers afterward anyway. Matt was a senior; Frank probably wouldn't see much of him. Wouldn't want to, unless he was horny and desperate. Frank walked down A street with his head low and his arms around himself, then decided to call the highest authority he knew on promiscuity.

"I'm at Adam's party, on C street," Mikey shouted over the music on the other line. "Pete is, like, high as a kite and it's really funny."

"Dude, I'm on A street," Frank said, trying to sell that he was miserable. He sat on a bench. "Come find me."

Because Mikey is a loyal friend despite his questionable character, he showed up a few minutes later. Frank was smoking a cigarette like it was Matt's dick when Mikey sat down quietly.

"What's up?" he said.

A girl tripping over her heels ran out of an apartment, soon chased after another girl holding a tennis racket. Music and laughter floated across the oval, louder where doors were open. The duo looked around for a few minutes, and then Frank broke his resolve and looked at his best friend.

"How are things in Pikeyland?" Frank asked. He hoped the ‘I'm still not over your brother's boyfriend’ vibes could be felt through the layers between them.

"Did you just say Pikeyland?" Mikey said disapprovingly. He rubbed Frank's knee and Frank relaxed to the touch.

"You know, Pete and Mikey...land," Frank clarified.

"Never call us that again." Frank grinned but Mikey was still frowning. "And we still can't seem to get past second base."

Frank's jaw dropped. He'd just gotten to 2nd, 3rd, and home with a guy whose last name he couldn't remember and without really trying. When the fuck were Pete and Mikey gonna fuck? Mikey looked behind them, toward the direction of C street, then at his hands.

"Wow," Frank said, at a loss for words. His own loneliness seemed petty when thinking about how lonely Mikey might be when he actually had someone.

"Not even a blowjob," Mikey said. He clenched his fists. "You know how long it's been since I got a blowjob?"

"Yes, actually."

Frank broke into a fit of giggles and Mikey watched him with a bemused smile. Frank was a particular kind of drunk. Everything just sort of went extreme with him. Depressed and he gave himself to the closest blue-eyed babe willing to bend him over, amused he'll laugh and wheeze and cough. Mikey patted Frank's back, then punched his shoulder, then rested his head on it.

"You're really good at them, you know," Mikey said. Frank scoffed. Was Mikey that high that afternoon that he didn't realize Frank wasn't blowing him so much as he was licking him like a horny, human-sized cat?

The image made Frank fall into another fit of giggles and Mikey tugged his hair to make him stop.

"So I've heard," Frank said, thinking back on Matt. The guy was enthusiastic.

"I mean, if I wasn't so head over heels for that idiot Pete—" Mikey laughed a little "—I'd probably date you just so you could blow me again."

Normally Frank would've laughed. This was Mikey. Their friendship was one that even Frank didn't understand. But they could never date. Oh, no. Blowjobs in a forest sure but actually dating? No. So the prospect was a funny one. And normally Frank would've laughed. However, it was becoming increasingly apparent that normal wasn't the norm around these parts.

"Excuse me?" said a voice behind them. Frank and Mikey turned. Frank's face immediately flushed red.

"Oh...hi," Mikey said to a confused Pete. He hopped off the bench and walked around it. Frank stood slowly, feeling nauseous.

"What are you talking about?" Pete said. Mikey got close to him and Pete wrapped an arm around his shoulders almost on instinct. He smiled warily. "When did Frank blow you?"

"Uhm..." Frank gave Mikey a pleading stare.

"Uh...a couple weeks ago?" Mikey said. Frank crept around the bench. The world was spinning and Pete was moving away from Mikey, smiling like he was the opposite of amused.

"Really?" Pete said. "You mean, while you were angry at me about Alicia?"

Frank had to butt in, help fix this, because Mikey looked helpless and drunk men look out for each other. "Listen, Pete, it's not a big deal," Frank said, a wave of confidence coming over him. "We were just trying to make Mikey feel better, it didn't mean anything."

Mikey gasped and shut his eyes tight. Frank didn't understand.

"...We?" Pete said, jaw locked and stare on Mikey. Oh. Oh _fuck_.

"Uhm...Gabe was there, too, sort of," Mikey said, voice trailing off. Frank leaned against the bench, staring in wide-eyed horror.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Pete shouted. "You fucked _two_ of my suitemates?"

Party-going passersby stopped to watch the argument ensue. Frank willed a black hole to suck them all away.

"It's not like that—" Mikey tried, but Pete snapped.

"You got mad at me for sleeping with Alicia, when you were going around and screwing my best friends?"

"You slept with her because you didn't want to admit your feelings for me!"

There were jeers from the crowd. Pete and Mikey faced each other now, faces red. Frank rubbed the back of his neck.

"So you are still mad about that!" Pete said.

Frank stepped forward. "Uh, guys..." he tried.

"Doesn't make a difference what I say or feel, you still treat me like I'm diseased," Mikey said. Frank stepped back. Anger boiled under the cracks in Mikey's voice. "Does it really hurt you that much to touch me?"

Pete scoffed. "You know what? Go ahead and suck his dick, Frank." Frank startled, not expecting to be addressed. Pete was still staring at Mikey, only harder now. "That's all he really wants."

"Pete, come on, that's not fair," Frank said, feeling small.

Pete turned on his heel and started on his way. Mikey stood there fuming for a moment.

"Excuse me for wanting to have sex with my boyfriend," Mikey grumbled.

Pete walked over to them again. The crowd had been strategically getting closer to the argument.

"You've had sex with everyone else," Pete quipped.

"I'm comfortable with my body! I don't have a crippling phobia of myself. Like you do."

It was Mikey's turn to walk away but Pete didn't let him. He grabbed his arm, pulled him back, and then shoved him away. Frank felt like he was watching a bad soap opera and only then did he realize that he'd been getting closer and closer to a seat on the ground, sinking, feeling too distressed to do much else.

"Fuck you, Mikey," Pete said, giving Mikey's shoulder a shove. Mikey's stare was ice cold but Pete's was breaking, his eyes glassy. "You have no fucking idea what you're doing to me. You were the worst person for me to fall for." Pete was whispering now, sharp but low enough that the eavesdroppers probably couldn't hear. "You're a drug addict. And, okay. I'll admit I have my problems but at least I know I do. You just parade around like you're doing everything right and for what? Sex. Our relationship isn't doing anything to you because you'll always use your pretty face and your trained dick to get what you want so why do we even bother?"

Pete gave the eavesdroppers the finger, and then walked away. Back toward C street. Mikey stood there, expression and body position unchanging until a tear collapsed from the corner of his eye to the tip of his nose. Then his face turned ugly, hurt ugly, and that's when Frank gathered himself and stood up. He waved away anyone that lingered and approached his best friend.

"Mikey..." Frank said.

Mikey looked at his sneakers, scratched his eyebrow. "I n-need to..." he started. He didn't even bother for an excuse. He turned away and Frank watched him leave.

***

Frank stumbled back to L street around 4 in the morning. He'd raided a few more parties, made out with a few more guys, and then got a text from Bob saying, "Pete says it's safe to go to the suite. He'll kill you some other day." And Frank realized that was exactly what he'd been waiting for. Another text from Bob confirmed that Bob himself had wrangled himself a hottie at a party and that he would not be making it home this evening. Bastard.

With Dewees spending weekends with his girl, that left Gabe and Ray. Frank heard murmuring once he was outside of L325 and when he entered the suite, Gabe stood immediately to scrutinize him.

"You fucking told Pete?" Gabe said through his teeth. Frank swore he'd lose his mind if he heard more yelling.

"What?" Frank said dumbly.

"Gabe, what did we just—" Ray said. He was sitting on the couch, looking composed and stern, and Gabe readily ignored him.

"You told Pete about me and you and Mikey," Gabe said. Oh. Frank had almost forgotten the debacle a few hours earlier. Then it hit him. Frank told Pete? No no no no—

"No. What? He overheard—"

"Because you like the fucking drama, don't you?" Gabe went on. Oh, he was on a roll. Frank wouldn't be able to get a word in, would he? "All your friends are happy so you've gotta fuck shit up, right?"

Frank’s eyes went wide, his mouth fell open, and he looked at Ray. Ray leaned back on the couch and shrugged.

"Where is this coming from?" Frank said weakly, not daring to look at his other suitemate again.

"Oh, boo hoo. My parents are divorcing. Yeah, you and half of the kids in America. You're not special." Frank tried to interrupt but Gabe took a forceful, terrifying step closer and Frank's mouth clamped shut. "Not to mention how you chased after Ray with no regard of the fact that he's basically been spoken for the past month? Do you get off on this shit? Do you like starting fights? Are you so desperate for attention—"

"Why are you blaming me for this?"

Frank curled his fists into his hair and leaned against the door. Ray sighed a ‘this is enough’ sigh and stood up. He could've butt in at any time but he didn't because Gabe was right and Frank deserved everything he was spewing.

"Because everything that has gone wrong this semester has been your fault!" Gabe shouted. Ray grabbed Gabe's arm and started to say something but Frank groaned loudly from frustration.

"Oh?" Frank said through gritted teeth, glaring at Gabe now.

"Making me question my morals, making Pete question his actions, fucking stealing Ray from Gerard."

"Everyone in this suite has free will—"

"But as long as their will works for your amusement, everything is fine!" The sarcasm hit Frank hard. Gabe shook his arm free of Ray's grasp and Frank cowered away when Gabe approached him. "I'm out of here. I can't fucking...fuck."

He left, letting the door slam shut behind him, and Frank fell to his knees.

"Frank?" Ray said, careful and quiet.

"Is that..." Frank said to his knees. He sniffled, squeezing his eyes shut. "Do I..."

"You should go to bed."

Ray's voice was gentle, lulling, but Frank was too far gone with guilt for it to have its normal effect. All he could think of was dragging Mikey away from the party, saying the thing that made Pete angry with Mikey and implicating Gabe, seeing Mikey broken and distraught at everything Pete had said and fuck it was his fault.

"Am I that bad?" Frank murmured. He stared at droplets falling to the ground. He felt dizzy. "Did I fuck everything up?"

"Everyone is drunk and angry," Ray said. His arms were finding their way around Frank. "Go to bed."

Frank shook his head, curling in on himself further and willing his body to turn into a dense little ball of Frank that would get denser until it disappeared. Ray somehow managed to scoop Frank into his arms and Frank just grumbled and rested against Ray's chest, arms around his neck. Ray dropped Frank on his bed. He tugged off Frank's jeans, supported his weight to the bathroom, brushed his teeth for him, and then dropped him on the bed again. It all happened very quickly and Frank's daze never left him. He lay on his side, frowning. He was extremely guilt-ridden and the look of sympathy in Ray's face didn't help one bit.

"Everybody hates me," Frank said. Ray turned off the lamp and the only light on now was from the streetlamps bleeding yellow into the room.

"No," Ray said in his Big Brother Voice. He sat at the edge of Frank's bed. "You, Pete, and Mikey have a situation you will work through tomorrow afternoon when everyone is squeaky clean and sober."

"But Gabe—"

"Knows what to say to hurt anyone, even if it isn't the whole truth."

This was a known fact in the suite. If using words to hurt people was an Olympic sport, they would've invented a new medal higher than gold for Gabe to win.

"Yeah," Frank said.

"Yeah," Ray said. He patted Frank's hip, let his fingers linger on the skin between the hem of Frank's underwear and his t-shirt, then made to stand. Frank grabbed his wrist gently and tugged.

"Stay with me?" Frank heard himself beg. He wanted to keep believing that someone didn't hate him.

Without hesitating Ray nodded, said, "Sure, just let me change," and took off his own jeans. He laid down facing Frank and they smiled at each other. For a while it wasn't much more than this: stares that should've been awkward but weren't, Ray's sure hands gripping Frank's shaking ones, bodies close and breaths steady in the dim-lighted room. Then Ray moved a hand to Frank's clavicle, traced the arch of the bones, slid his thumb to Frank's throat. Frank sighed contentedly the whole time and when Ray experimentally wrapped his fingers around Frank's throat it took all of Frank's willpower not to moan.

"What is it that you like about it?" Ray's voice broke the quiet, startling Frank.

"Hmm?"

"The...asphyxiation? Or the act of choking? You don't have to answer, I know I'm—"

"A little bit of both," Frank admitted. It wasn't something Frank talked about much, didn't usually need to. "Mostly the asphyxiation. But I do... I mean, I guess I...like feeling helpless to someone."

Ray tightened his fingers only slightly and though Frank didn't know whether it was on purpose or not, the action had Frank pressing against Ray's hand.

"Huh," Ray said, sounding genuinely interested. "Does it... I mean, is it only sexual?"

"Yeah. Mostly."

"Oh..." Frank had his eyes closed as he turned onto his back. He focused on the sound of Ray's breaths. "And if we were to, you know... How would you tell me to stop? You know, since it'd be hard for you to speak?"

"I'd need to physically tell you to stop," Frank said. Just talking about it, and talking it out with Ray, was ripping away all stress Frank had been feeling. He felt calm and safe, as always, with Ray. "Like..." Frank wrapped a hand around Ray's wrist. "I could tap three times."

Ray nodded. He studied Frank for a moment, and then said, "I'm drunk too."

Frank laughed. He'd smelled it on Ray's breath. Most in L325 didn't tackle Saturdays with sobriety. Ray's fingers left Frank's throat and traced his collarbone again and Frank swallowed nervously.

"Why does it feel good?" Ray whispered, low and throaty.

"N-not sure," Frank said. "But it's like...being high. Makes coming feel amazing."

The bed dipped as Ray moved. Frank opened his eyes and watched Ray swing a leg over him, straddling his waist. This time he moved both his hands to Frank's throat, gaze sinking into Frank's eyes.

"Wanna make you feel good," Ray said. "Never done anything like this."

Frank wondered if Ray had noticed Frank getting increasingly turned on and that's why he was talking like he was auditioning for a porno or if he himself was nearly as turned on. But Frank couldn't move to look and Ray wasn't on him in a way that Frank could try to feel it so he brought his hands to Ray's wrists and nodded. The look Ray was giving Frank was vulnerable and scared; Frank wondered what kind of control Ray had in his sexual endeavors and if that's what he meant by never having done anything like this. Maybe the guy was vanilla as fuck and doing this to Frank would be completely one-sided. Frank gave Ray the deepest look of trust he could muster and squeezed his wrists. Ray sighed and closed his hands around Frank's throat.

They stared each other down for a few seconds, Frank remaining composed until his mouth fell open. It was an instinct he didn't know how to stop, and happened the second he felt the pressure in his nose and his chest started shaking with need. His eyes went wide, bulging with the effort of lost breath. Ray's eyebrows were furrowed and he loosened his hands; Frank shook his head and tugged at Ray's hands until Ray squeezed again. At first it was scary, having someone much larger than him on top of him and doing something potentially dangerous. But that thought, along with the increased deprivation, was what started making him really happy. He would've laughed if he had the breath to. He was dizzy and his eyes watered; he could feel his face turning red, his entire body going taut against the effort. Ray's eyes were wide and beautiful but frightened. Frank squeezed, his gasps for breath to no avail, and he felt like he was floating. That was when Ray let his hands drop to Frank's chest and Frank's lungs finally filled with oxygen.

"Fuck, Frank," Ray said. Frank laughed and started coughing. "Are you okay?"

Ray started to move off but Frank shook his head. His hands were still on Ray's wrists so he tugged until Ray's stilled. "Better than okay," he said, grinning at the ceiling. He furrowed his brow. "I didn't tell you to stop."

Ray leaned back, sitting practically on Frank's crotch, and Frank's head fell back. He rutted up against Ray's ass, moaning softly, and Ray scoffed. "Oh, wow," Ray said. "You really...wow."

"More," Frank said. On top of being drunk, now he felt high. He didn't care about anything or anyone except Ray and his hands and fuck it felt so good to be in his body. "Please? Ray?"

Frank opened his eyes. He looked at Ray's flush face, then down at the obvious bulge in his underwear. Oh. Frank had a sudden urge to touch but at the same time, Ray chickening out left him wanting. Ray got his fingers around Frank's throat again and Frank nodded profusely, feeling giddy.

"Don't stop unless there's three taps," Frank said urgently. Ray nodded, dazed. He slid back, pressing his own hard-on against Frank's and dry-humping him. He bit his lip and Frank moaned. Then Ray grabbed Frank's throat.

Apparently Ray was a fast learner because he pressed, hard, and Frank was trembling in seconds. Frank squeezed Ray's wrists and Ray pressed forward, rotating his hips over Frank's. Ray moaned low and desperate. Frank felt wild, the combination of the high from getting choked and the pleasurepressure of Ray's crotch on his own driving him to the edge. He was sweating, getting dizzier by the second, but the ecstasy was unbelievable. Frank pressed back against Ray, fought his weight to join in the senseless frottage, and Frank whimpered helplessly. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as his body moved helplessly, Ray's quickened breaths making him jealous as the bed creaked beneath them. Frank kept moving until the pleasure crescendoed. His body grew still and his fingernails broke Ray's skin as his orgasm hit him in waves that spiked over and over again. He groaned, body shaking, momentarily blinded by the intensity of his orgasm. But just as suddenly and wonderfully as he had come, everything seemed to overwhelm him. He tapped Ray's wrist weakly and Ray let go immediately, stopping the movements of his hips that had been a little much for Frank's sensitive cock. Frank gasped for breath and Ray wrapped his arms around him, kissing his hot neck and murmuring on his skin.

"Please...me you’re okay...didn't...you, right?" Ray said, muffled by kisses. Frank stared at the ceiling.

"Didn't hurt me," Frank confirmed. He smiled. He was still riding an unmistakable high and he actually laughed, hugging Ray close. It'd been a while since someone deliberately got him off like that. "Fuck, that was...was amazing."

Ray just continued kissing Frank's neck and throat, paying no mind to his own hard cock. It was the best kind of strange. Frank's boyfriend in high school that got Frank into this would get him off then force him on his cock, barely giving him a chance to come back down to his own body or really take a breath. Frank was touched that Ray was so concerned for him and for the first time ever, Frank didn't feel embarrassed about receiving pleasure this way or apprehensive about giving some in return. This was Ray. Of course Ray would be this good to him, of course he'd let Frank laugh giddily and wallow in afterglow while he checked his skin and kissed it, stroked his back and kissed him.

Frank had totally forgotten about kissing or regular vanilla foreplay but there he was, with every part of Ray on top of every part of him. Including, now, his lips. Ray was taking Frank's lead, he could tell, because Frank kissed Ray soft and slow and smiling, a little peck then a little bite then a flick of tongue. Ray was still hard against Frank's hip and though Frank was too giggly to really kiss properly he knew what to do when _that_ was against his hip.

"Okay, so," Frank started, all-business. They kissed, again, hard and fast now. "Like, do you want a blow job?"

"Do you wanna blow me?" Ray asked. Another kiss and Frank laughed.

"Yeah."

"That sounds awesome, then."

Frank climbed out from under Ray, wobbling as he got to his feet. He took off his wet underwear, back facing Ray, and threw it into the waste basket by his desk. His pajamas pants were under his pillow so he reached back blindly, surprised when his hand smacked Ray's face. It was stupid to be trying this hard to hide a limp dick from a dude that just choked you to get you off but Frank hoped Ray would see it for real under very different circumstances. Ray laughed and Frank reached under the pillow, got his pants, put them on, and turned to face Ray.

Ray was, of course, languidly stroking his cock, underwear halfway down his strong thighs and his head resting on his other arm. Frank watched dumbly, committing the moment to memory for future reference during masturbatory sessions.

"I mean, I could just get off like this if you want," Ray said. He palmed the head of his cock then moved his hand down, squeezing harder. Frank shook his head.

"No, I wanna suck you off," Frank said. "Honest."

Ray chuckled. "Then suck me off."

Frank hopped on his bed, between Ray's legs. He crawled to the edge and lowered his head. Ray guided his cock into Frank's mouth. Frank swallowed him down and Ray was immediately moaning. Frank dipped his head, slow and teasing, tongue licking the underside of Ray's cock in fast motions. Ray cursed, his fist moving on his cock and his hips moved to fuck into Frank's mouth. Frank stroked Ray's hips, not really creating any pressure but tracing the V there and feeling the heat radiating from his body. Ray's little moans were encouraging and Frank doubled his efforts, no stranger to holding his breath as he went down. He took Ray down his throat, pulled back, and went back down again. Ray moaned louder, snapping his hips, hand moving to Frank's hair. Frank looked up, watched Ray's look of bliss, hollowed his cheeks, sucked faster. Ray tugged Frank's hair warningly but Frank didn't want to stop until Ray completely lost it so he palmed Ray's balls, moved a finger between his cheeks, went down and swallowed over and over. Only when Ray cried out, unrestrained, did Frank finally get off but by then Ray was already coming. On Frank's tongue, his lips, his cheek. Frank smiled and watched Ray trembling, stroking his cock through the aftershocks, and sat back feeling proud.

"Guess we're even," Ray said breathlessly. He looked at Frank and smiled. Frank reached back for a tissue and wiped his face with it.

"Not quite," Frank said. He threw the tissue at Ray's face and laughed when Ray flailed. The tissue fell to the floor and Frank passed Ray the box from his desk. Ray looked at him frowning as he cleaned up, threw the box across the room, tucked himself away. Then he grinned, wrapped his arms around Frank's torso, and threw him onto his back on the bed. Frank giggled as Ray kissed his neck and this time when they kissed on the lips nobody took the lead.

***

There was a bang and a flash. Frank was nowhere. Then there was a shout and Frank heard his name. Suddenly he was cold and he realized he wasn't nowhere; he was in his body, on his bed, next to another body. Frank made a sound and clung to the warmth but there were more shouts and then the person next to him was shaking him awake. His head felt like a ten ton truck.

"Mother fucking stop yelling, ow," Frank said, covering his ears. He snuggled closer to Ray, willing the bile crawling up his throat to just disappear.

"Frank," Ray said groggily, shaking Frank’s shoulder. "Bob's right, we have to get up."

"Damn right I'm right. You pieces of total shit."

Frank sat up in his bed. He still wasn't completely himself yet but a few things came to him when he sat up. The light was on. It was getting dark out again already so they must have slept a lot. Bob looked like he might commit murder. Ray was in Frank's bed.

"I mean, are you fucking kidding me?" Bob shouted.

"Shit!" Frank said, covering his ears again. "Bob, shhhh."

"Pete is literally fuming he hates you and Gabe so much and...this, really?"

Frank groaned, rubbing his head. A new wave of nausea hit and he realized his neck hurt. Like, really. He touched his neck and it was tender to the touch. Ray climbed out of his bed behind him and looked under it. Frank did not expect the morning after to be like this.

"I mean, apparently Mikey's not the slut," Bob said, hard and bitter. "You are."

"Shut up!" Frank said, Bob's words striking him hard. He didn't want to think it but he knew. He deserved Bob's yelling more than anything. He'd slept with Ray. Gerard's boyfriend Ray. Fuck.

"No one's a slut," Ray said. He tugged on his jeans. "And this is none of your business."

"It is now!" Bob shouted. Frank heaved, hand on his stomach. "No one else is here so now I'm fucking in on it."

Frank jumped out of bed, ran out of the room, crossed the hall, and barely made it to the toilet in time to vomit profusely inside it. In between his gags, he heard more of Bob's yelling.

"Pete spent the night on Patrick's floor in that shitty single on K street, Gabe's still drunk, and no one's even heard from Mikey! And now you guys pull this? Are you for real? Frank just dug a hole so deep. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, you know, because it's Frank but he's always been a selfish prick."

Frank didn't realize he was sobbing until there was a hand on his back. Ray's hand, rubbing comfortingly, as Frank alternated between sobbing and puking. He didn't know which was more pathetic, crying over Bob's words or over the effort of throwing up.

"It isn't any of your fucking business, Bob," Ray said again. Frank didn't look up, didn't care. "Leave us the fuck alone."

Frank heard footsteps moving away. He leaned against the wall and coughed, looked at Ray's soft expression. Ray rubbed Frank's knee and Frank frowned.

"You need to go," Frank said, sniffling.

Ray was taken aback. "What do you mean?" he said.

"I mean, GO! Leave me alone."

"Frankie, I—"

"What are you gonna do? Sit there and watch me puke?"

Ray frowned. Frank flinched when Ray reached a hand to Frank's throat. "You're a little bruised," he said.

Frank chuckled. "I have fucking turtle necks."

"Frank, we need to talk about—"

"No." Frank flushed the toilet and waited for it to stop before he continued. "You were there for me like you always are and I fucked things up again."

"That's not—"

"It's always Gerard. You always choose Gerard."

Frank hugged his knees and closed his eyes. Ray didn't say a word but dropped his hands. A few minutes passed in silence until Ray stood up and left the bathroom. Frank cried silently against his knees until the urge to throw up hit him again.

***

To say the tension in suite L325 was high would be like saying the Statue of Liberty was kind of tall or Detroit isn't a very safe place. Frank ate meals alone in the food court and took his homework to the library. A text from Ray confirmed that Dewees went back to the suite eventually and was filled in, and Gabe returned as well. Bob was there but fuming. When Frank returned that night, it was quiet in the suite and empty in the common area.

"I was totally out of hand," Gabe said when he passed Frank in the hall, sounding genuinely apologetic. Frank tried to walk passed him but he grabbed Frank's arm and looked him in the eye. "Half of what I said didn't even make sense."

Frank sighed. "No you weren't," he said. He walked to his door, opened it. "Yes it did." And locked himself inside for the rest of the night. He didn't even look at Bob.

Ray texted that he would talk to Gerard and that only terrified Frank. Pete never showed up. Frank tried calling Mikey three different times to no avail and after the last time, he got a text that read: ‘I'm not dead’. And that's all Frank needed.

There were two days of class left before Thanksgiving break. Then Frank could get away from it all.

That Monday he barely spoke to Gabe in class and he spent his afternoon holed up in the library again. He got a late lunch and as he was leaving the food court, he saw the Way brothers approaching it. He lowered his head and tried to quickly turn away but they'd already seen him.

"You asshole," Gerard said, surging forward. He slammed Frank against the wall, making him drop the bag that held his lunch.

"Gerard, don't," Mikey said weakly, crossing his arms.

Gerard looked at Frank angrily and Frank cowered against the brick. He hadn't spoken to any of his friends in 24 hours and he was aware how much he deserved to get punched in the face but even more aware of how obviously Gerard wanted to punch him in the face.

"First you split up my brother and his boyfriend," Gerard said, giving Frank a shove, "then you try and steal mine?"

Frank opened his mouth to speak but he'd forgotten how to. Gerard looked hurt, more sincerely upset than angry. Still he raised his fist. Thankfully Mikey was there to hold him back and tear him off of Frank. Gerard surged forward again, this time not touching but stepping on the bag on the floor and spitting on the wall next to Frank before letting himself be guided away by Mikey.

It felt like high school again. And like high school, Frank ran and found the quietest, loneliest place he could and had a panic attack. He doubled over on the staircase behind the humanities building, choking and sobbing and pulling out his hair. Then he went to his room and just slept.

***

Frank skipped his Tuesday classes and when most of the suite was empty started to pack. He didn't need much for the extended weekend but he bought his time. He didn't want to eat another meal alone and the only person he could think to text was Dewees. They met at the dining hall early that afternoon.

"Thanks for eating with me," Frank said, poking at his salad.

"Mhmm," said Dewees. This guy was a soft spoken dude. Frank knew when he looked at his face that he was thinking much more than he was saying, more than most would hide, and Frank frowned at his food.

"Does everyone hate me?" Frank asked.

"You'd know if you talked to them," Dewees said. Frank rolled his eyes and glared. "Okay, alright. Well. Gabe feels really guilty. Pete's denounced the entire suite. You should fucking talk to Bob for chrissake, he's your roommate and you can't avoid him. Mikey skipped the one class we have together. And I really couldn't care less about this whole situation. Everyone is being dramatic and full of shit and childish."

Frank expected the sting but waited for Dewees to say more, maybe something about Ray, being his roommate and all, but he bit into his burger and said nothing.

"And Ray?" Frank asked tentatively.

"You know, he probably shouldn't have told me what he told me," Dewees said cryptically. "Which is probably an indicator for you to talk to him."

Frank blushed, wondering what exactly it was that Ray said about him. He could tell from the look in Dewees' eyes that he expected more but Frank just listened to the chatter and the clatter of the dining hall and chewed on a leaf of lettuce, contemplating a cherry tomato.

"Frank," Dewees said. Frank looked up from under his fringe. "You can man up and talk to them before they leave for the break, or you can let everything fester over the weekend."

Frank nodded. He knew this. He knew he should probably work shit out with his friends. That his sexual endeavors had caused trouble and he should work to fix it. That he needed to stop cowering, out of nerves or fear of confrontation. Still after their lunch was over, Frank took his back pack and left for home early. He just wanted to see his mother.

***

The house seemed eerily quiet and empty, lacking a presence. Frank flipped through the channels, volume low, knees close to his chest as he sunk into a corner of the couch. His mother Linda appeared, took the remote from his extended hand, and held a mug in front of it in exchange. Frank took it carefully and smelled its contents. Ginger tea.

"So we're going to Teresa's tomorrow," she said. "Early. I'm helping her cook."

Frank nodded. He sipped. Linda flipped through the channels, stopped on an NCIS marathon, and settled back on the couch with a hand on Frank's foot. During the next commercial, she turned toward her son.

"You've got a lot on your mind, kid," she said playfully. Like she had always done. It was something that made Frank able to be open with her.

"You're keeping the house?" Frank asked. She nodded. "And I'm staying with you?"

Linda looked at the drink in her hand. "I won't stop you if you want to leave."

"I just wanna see him. I'm not leaving this house. I grew up here."

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea and gasping at the screen and Frank was some paradoxical equal parts relaxed and anxious. The next commercial, he spoke up.

"So, tomorrow's the first thanksgiving without dad," he said.

"Yeah," Linda said.

"How you holding up?"

They talked over the TV show. By the end of the hour, they were lying on the floor and complaining to the ceiling, heads next to each other and bodies facing opposite directions. Frank felt better than he had in weeks. He spilled about Ray and Gerard.

"Well, Frank, as someone that's been cheated on I can tell you that you did a shitty thing," Linda said.

"Dad didn't..." Frank said.

"No! God, no. Well, not that I know."

Frank nodded. "I'm glad you're happier now."

"Sweetheart, you've gotta take the reins in your own life. You can't sit back and watch it pass you." Linda patted Frank's cheek and Frank grinned. She stood up. "More tea?"

***

After the long and relaxing weekend, Frank kissed his mother goodbye Sunday afternoon and hiked it back up to campus. He didn't know who was at the suite when he got there but thankfully Bob wasn't. Frank put his stuff away, then settled for a wait in the common area. Whoever walked through the door first, Frank would talk to. Taking the reins like mom said. And like Dewees said, basically.

Because God liked sick jokes, Ray entered the common area with a flourish. He saw Frank, averted his eyes, disappeared down the hall, and came back right when Frank was ready to chicken out.

"Hey," Frank said.

"Hi," said Ray

"We need to..."

"Yeah. Outside?"

Frank looked appalled. "It's cold."

"Frank."

"Alright, let me just...grab a coat."

Frank went to his room, put on his coat, and took a few deep breaths. He met Ray in the common area again and gave him a meek smile, then led him out of the dorm. They walked down the path and behind the building, stopped outside of the fence to the tennis courts. Frank glared at Ray's sweater, which was dangerously tight on his torso, as he lit a cigarette.

"So," Frank said, unsure where to begin. "You, uhm...what's up with you and Gerard?"

"He yelled at me a week ago and hasn't talked to me since," Ray said. His tone feigned nonchalance. Frank looked at his expression, though, and felt guilt twist in his chest.

"Oh," Frank said.

He looked away from Ray and his broken expression. He smoked and thought and smoked and thought and Ray cleared his throat once Frank had motored through a cigarette and a half.

"Frank?" Ray said. His arms were folded over his chest, heightening the effect of his god forsaken sweater.

"I just...like you, okay?" Frank said, hitting his head back on the fence.

"This is a revelation," Ray said. He laughed at Frank's indignant expression.

"Ray!"

Ray laughed adorably for a moment and Frank couldn't help but smile. "I was ready to just dump Gerard last week, you know," Ray said, face falling.

The past tense is what got Frank. "What?"

"I like you too." Ray leaned against the fence, contemplated the dirt under his sneakers. "Everyone could tell except me. Well, and maybe you." Frank rolled his eyes. Because Ray was so subtle, right? "I don't regret spending the night with you. It was...interesting. And fun. And I'm glad. I'm glad we were together. It was great."

"But..." Frank said. Ray continued to avoid eye contact.

"You pushed me away before I could do anything about it. I mean, you waited months to tell me you liked me and by then it was too late but you didn't act like it. This is why everyone is pissed at you, even if it isn't any of their business. Your timing is impeccably horrible and...we hurt Gerard."

Frank didn't really mind hurting Gerard. He was an asshole and Ray deserved better. He didn't say any of this. He didn't say anything at all. And here he thought he'd be doing the talking.

"Now I'm not trying to claim my innocence," Ray said. Frank scoffed. "I fucked up too, by cheating on him with you. But I don't regret it. The being with you, not the cheating. I regret the cheating."

Frank laughed. He finished his cigarette and lit another. When he looked at Ray, he was grinning.

"You got anything to say?" Ray asked.

"Just...thank you," Frank said.

"For what?"

Frank shrugged. "Taking care of me."

"Hey, anytime you need me to stop you breathing...be explicit and make sure I'm single."

Frank chuckled as Ray wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He squeezed, and then kissed the top of Frank's head. Frank didn't want to hug back. He feared he wouldn't be able to let go.

"Well, that's one awkward conversation down," Frank said against Ray's chest.

"Good luck with the rest," said Ray. He started toward the dorm. "You coming?"

"Gotta finish my smokes."

Ray nodded, smiled, waved, and was on his way. Frank sunk to the ground and hit his head on the fence over and over. He was so gone for this guy.

Dewees, Gabe, and Ray were officially talking to Frank and anyone outside of the immediate circle that had gotten their gossip just wanted to be friends again. Bob punched Frank on the shoulder when he made it back inside and told him to clean up his side of the room—a good sign. No awkward conversations needed for manly Bryar. Pete seemed to be rooming with Patrick in his tiny single indefinitely, though Bob informed Frank that Pete had come for some of his stuff a couple times. Frank had been doing a lot of sleeping lately and that Sunday night was no different.

***

"The way I see it, it's us against the world."

Frank shook his head as he stuffed his books into his bag. It was just past noon on Monday, the last Monday before finals week and just four days before My Chemical Romance's show at the Dent. Everyone was standing up in the lecture hall, chattering and moving things and making noise over the professor's reminders that the next class would be a review day for the final. Frank had learned quickly that college is not that different from high school.

"Everyone thinks we're sluts," Gabe continued theatrically. "We've got to stick together, man! SLUTS UNITE."

"Shut the fuck up!" Frank said, shoving him away when he tried to grab his wrist. He laughed and ran down the aisle when Gabe gave him an appalled look, apologizing to anyone he bumped into until they'd run out into the cold.

"Too cold to run!" Gabe called, sounding breathless. Frank stopped in front of a bench and picked up his phone when he felt it buzz. "Damn, dude, you can run for a little guy."

"Mikey wants me to meet him at the Hammocks," Frank said, showing Gabe his phone. Gabe craned his neck away, like the phone was diseased.

"I am not going into a forest with Mikey again," Gabe said. "Bad things happen when I go into forests with Mikey."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Then don't."

"Good fucking luck my friend."

Gabe strutted in the opposite direction of where the Hammocks were. Frank chewed on his lip and started walking on his own. He hadn't spoken to Mikey, despite his many attempts, since that night in Senior Village. All Frank had gotten was a text and that was really the worst part of this whole ordeal: thinking he might lose Mikey. He can stand having a few friends call him on his shit or call him a piece of shit. Getting and losing a guy and ruining a couple relationships in the space of 12 hours hurt his conscience, sure. But nothing hurt more than not having Mikey around.

Frank walked across the mall, between the humanities building and the visual arts building, past the field at the northern end of campus, and finally through the opening to the Hammocks. He found a couple whispering to each other, a girl napping with her backpack, and Mikey way in the back staring at the trees. Frank dropped his bag and Mikey scooted over to accommodate him on the hammock.

"I don't blame you, you know," Mikey said immediately. "About Pete. I should have told him."

Frank wasn't convinced. It wouldn't have taken eight days for Mikey to decide that he didn't blame Frank. It would have taken him that long, however, to think it over and finally decide what he really felt. Basically, to get over Frank's drunken blunder. It didn't matter, though. Frank couldn't understand Mikey sometimes. But he was glad they could swing on a hammock again and just that made his entire day.

"Well, he's an idiot anyway," Frank said, referring to Pete.

Bob had very explicitly stated that most people didn't care that he and Gabe fucked Mikey while he was not-dating Pete. It was the Ray thing that was the issue. Everyone kind of agreed that Pete was being melodramatic, but then again everyone had seen different parts of his slow break down over his not-gay crap. For someone as sexually stunted (when it came to men, that is) as Pete, Mikey really was an overwhelming person to fall for.

"Ray and Gerard broke up," Mikey said after a moment. Frank wasn't even happy about it. Everyone was miserable.

"I'm officially a home wrecker," Frank said humorlessly. Mikey hit his arm, and then held his hand.

***

Bob was beating senselessly on his drums, Frank was lying on the floor hugging his guitar, and Ray was walking around delicately plucking away at his guitar. The song he played made Frank sway and clashed with the drums completely. They'd gotten everything set up in the music room in secret and Mikey had run off to convince Gerard to show. It was a bad idea. It was a terrible idea. But the show at the Dent was in two days and they needed to squeeze in at least one more practice.

Ray started playing one of their songs. Bob joined in immediately but Frank kept hugging his guitar. His hands were shaking and the ceiling was very interesting. Ray walked over and nudged his side with the toe of his shoe. Frank moved his guitar and started playing along, unenthusiastically. Ray stood nearby, head banging then jumping then falling to his knees next to Frank when his solo came up. Frank laughed, and Ray smiled at him, and Bob stopped playing abruptly.

"Guys?" said Mikey.

Ray stood up immediately and faced the door. Frank didn't move until Ray nudged him again. When he stood up he saw Mikey standing beside his brother by the door. Mikey patted Gerard's shoulder and went to pick up his bass from the bench. Gerard didn't move.

"This was a shitty idea!" Bob shouted. He was the only one not involved in the drama but the tension was probably making him uncomfortable as well.

"We've gotta practice," Mikey said, setting up. He looked at Gerard. "Right, Gee?"

Gerard nodded and went to stand behind the mic. Frank looked between him and Ray; they stared at each other, Gerard's look harsh and Ray's scared but both looking hurt. They took their positions and waited for Gerard's cue to start.

They had a few kinks to work through on the songs and with Mikey's guidance, because Mikey Way is magic, they managed to get through the first couple songs civilly. It felt strange to play in an empty room and to have Mikey communicate what everyone was thinking, since no one else wanted to talk and Mikey could read them like books, but they got through it. And by the third song, Frank's nerves were mostly gone and he started bopping around, shaking and swaying and twirling.

Then Gerard stopped singing.

"What the hell, Gerard?" said Bob.

"Frank's totally off," Gerard said, staring at the wall.

"Am not," Frank said.

"We'll take it from the top," said Mikey. Ray's eyes were on the ground.

Halfway through the song, when Frank had regained his energy a significant amount, Gerard bumped into him with so much force that he went toppling to the ground. He grunted when his guitar hit his gut, looking up in shock.

"Gerard!" Ray said. Gerard frowned.

"Oops," Gerard said.

"You know what?" said Frank, getting up hastily. Ray rushed over; Frank swatted him away. "I'm out of here. Find a new guitarist."

Frank started packing away his guitar, feeling disoriented and nervous. You could hear a pin drop.

"Always the drama queen," Gerard said.

Frank bit. He turned around, jaw locked.

"I feel really shitty about myself—" Frank began, ready to go full-on apology mode. He understood. He deserved to be treated the way he was. But this wasn't about their drama.

"Good," Gerard interrupted. "There are plenty of more talented guitarists than you on campus."

"This is not happening right now," Bob groaned, throwing his drumsticks behind him.

"Why are you treating me like shit?" Frank said.

"The list is ever-growing," Gerard said with a wave of his hand.

"I'm not having this conversation right now."

Frank turned back to his guitar case. No one made a move or a sound. It was gonna be either Frank or Gerard and since the band was Gerard's brainchild and his brother was the bassist, Frank was fucked. Whatever. Dewees was a drummer, Rubano was a bassist...Frank could start another band. He didn't need this crap. He started toward the door with this thought on his mind.

"Knew you'd bail," Gerard said, sounding amused. "You have the consistency of Campbell's fucking soup."

Frank blinked, lowered his guitar case to the ground, and then turned swiftly. Gerard's dark stare didn't quit, Bob looked bored and annoyed, Mikey was always hard to read but this time Frank had a sneaking suspicion he expected and even wanted this to happen, and Ray just frowned at his shoes.

Frank spoke slowly. "I was there for Mikey when he needed me and Ray was there for me when I needed him," he said. Gerard scoffed. Frank ignored it. "They're my closest friends. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. This is not an apology. I don't need your forgiveness. I need you to be civil toward me so we can play this fucking show."

Everyone looked at Gerard now. Gerard's look softened and he turned to Ray.

"I'm gonna write a really angry song about you assholes," he said brokenly.

"Channel that shit into the practice!" Bob said. "We have a show in two days! Frank, get your guitar out. Okay? Is everyone willing to talk about their issues after class? Yeah? Cool. Let's go back to Sorrows. One, two, three, four!"

***

The next day after class and before dinner, Frank was pleased to see Pete in the common area of suite L325. Ray and Dewees were playing on the Wii.

"Pete!" Frank said. He beamed. Pete smiled at him. "You here for family dinner?"

Pete shook his head. "Patrick kicked me out because I was in his way or something," he said. "And I don't think we're having family dinner."

"Of course we're having family dinner. This is the last time we're all gonna be here together this semester."

"Well," Ray said. "Gabe is with William and Bob is nowhere to be found so..."

Frank looked between them. Dewees and Ray were focused on the game but Pete was just sitting on the loveseat and hugging his knees.

"We can round everybody up," Frank said hopefully.

"I don't want to have family dinner," Pete said.

Oh. "You're not still—"

"I am, still."

Pete got up and stormed past Frank to his room.

"Are you kidding me?" Frank whisper-shouted. He sat where Pete had been. "I mean, are you fucking kidding me? He's really the only one not still over this."

"I mentioned family dinner and he just lost it," Dewees admitted.

"Gabe and me are switching rooms," Ray said. "Just until they sort it out."

Frank groaned and slid down the seat, lying on the floor. "I just want my friends back," he said.

"I have an idea," Dewees said. He didn't explain, just kept playing until Frank shook his leg for an answer.

"What is it, man, what is it?" Frank said. Ray chuckled.

"King mother fucking Pizza."

King Pizza was the premier late night food place because they were open and delivered until 3am, even to college campuses filled with rowdy young adults. Pete didn't leave his room until Bob's 47th knock (Gabe counted, to be sure). He came out rubbing his eyes, in nothing but boxers and a t-shirt that looked suspiciously like one that Mikey owned. It was 2 in the morning.

"What the fuck?" Pete said.

"Family dinner," Bob said, grabbing his arm. The other four suitemates ran away from the hall entrance to take seats on the floor in the common area around the coffee table, all clad in their own variations of pajamas. Frank and Gabe were next to each other; Ray to Frank's left, Dewees to Gabe's right.

"I have class at 8:30 in the morning," Pete whined.

"We got pineapple," Dewees said, holding out the box. Pete took all of two seconds to think about it, then grabbed the box and sat in front of the TV facing the coffee table, directly across from Frank. Bob sat next to him.

They all sat eating in silence for a few minutes, passing around paper plates and boxes and a cigarette that someone had lit at some point, until Ray disappeared to his room and came back with a wine bottle and 6 plastic cups. He passed the cups around and filled them with an equal amount of wine each. Then Bob tapped his with a pizza crust, raising the cup for a toast.

"Tomorrow is the last day of class," Bob said. There was a celebratory cheer. "We have survived our first semester as college students. Barely." Everyone laughed when Dewees looked at his lap, and then reached over to give him consoling pats. He'd been the only one to withdraw from a class. "There was sweat, blood, and tears." Pete the soccer player, Dewees the fighter, and Ray the boyfriend expert all raised their cups in turn. "There was also some throwing up and some affairs with professors." Frank barely got a chance to acknowledge his tendency to lose the contents of his stomach because Gabe went to his feet and bowed so the others could cheer.

"And some working out," Frank said, using his right hand to pat his roommate's flabby stomach. The others chuckled, no doubt at Bob's inconsistent workout schedule, and Bob swatted Frank's hand away.

"The point is..." Bob said. "Suite L325 has been to hell and back and we fucking made it. So cheers to us."

Plastic cups went up in a hoot, of excitement and cheer. Pete smiled at Gabe, then at Frank.

"You're all fucking dorks," Pete said.

They chattered away about this and that, spitting pizza bits when they yelled and putting their cups down when they laughed. Pete was his normal, uninhibited self; he climbed over the coffee table and sat between Frank and Gabe to help their defense of Rose Tyler when the heated argument on the Doctor Who companion started. There was a knock at the door.

"RA," said the voice behind the door. "You're being too loud."

"Sorry," Ray called. The suitemates exchanged devilish looks.

"Can we talk about that dude with the gauges that works at the bookstore?" Gabe whispered.

There was a group groan of appreciation. They talked about Bookstore Babe, then they talked about finals, then they disappeared one by one to their rooms. Gabe and Ray didn't switch places.

***

"Mikey's so wasted right now, I don't think he can even see the frets on his guitar."

Frank looked over Ray's shoulder. Mikey was slapping the strings on his bass, pacing back and forth in the space of two feet, near a corner. My Chemical Romance was to start playing very soon. The room was filled up with everyone from the suite and Gabe's Fueled by Ramen crew to Rubano's band and every senior he could find to invite. Rumor had it he was trying to impress Frank. But all Frank cared about was Mikey. Frank walked up to his best friend and put his hands on his shoulders.

"I'm nervous," Mikey said, a faint smile on his face.

"You're trashed," said Frank.

"Pete's heeere."

"Of course he is. He's here to support us along with everyone else. Mikey, are you gonna be able to play?"

Mikey looked out into the audience. He swayed a bit, which concerned Frank, but nodded absently. Frank kissed his forehead, and then pushed him to his spot.

"The fuck is up?" Gerard slurred into the mic. There were cheers from the crowd. "Our name is My Chemical Romance and we're about to prove to you that we are better than Fall Out Boy."

There was laughter and applause. Frank saw Andy in the crowd, giving Gerard the finger. Pete just shook his head and Patrick smiled. Joe was macking some chick in the corner.

"Hit it, bro," Gerard said, and Mikey played the brilliant bass line he'd played them for the first time during practice a couple days before.

Ray, Frank, and Bob were soon supporting, the crowd bobbing their heads along, and everyone went wild when Gerard screamed, "Oh baby here comes the sound!"

They thought they'd have a bad turn out because it was the last day of classes but just as many people showed up to their show as did to the Fall Out Boy one. And it was more exciting because Frank had a guitar in his hands. He threw himself at the crowd and let them push, twirled around and kicked and jumped, even screamed into Gerard's mic a few times. The crowd soaked it all in, reflecting the same energy. Frank bumped into Mikey and head-banged with him, getting him to smile. He played on his knees for Ray, knocked his guitar into Bob's cymbals. God, he loved tiny punk shows. Afterwards everyone was sweaty and excited. Great start to the last weekend.

"The coordinator said we can share the stage with Fall Out Boy once a month," Gerard said excitedly when they started putting away their gear. "We'll take turns headlining every month."

After all was said and done, it was a normal Friday night. Frank was happy for the first time in a long time. There was someone missing, though, when he was fucking around on a skateboard with friends. He wandered around the Dent and found Mikey sitting in the middle of the parking lot, legs crossed and hands folded.

"Hey, Mike," said Frank.

"I'm...also high," Mikey said. "Like, 'm so out of it righ' n..."

Frank walked up to him and took a seat in front of him, mimicking his position. "What's going on?"

"'S cool tha' we got a mumfly gig."

"You had fun tonight?"

"Lots."

"Why do you look so sad?"

Mikey shrugged, but answered anyway. "Pete," he said. Frank nodded. "He won' look a' me or touch me. I don' need sex, I need him. Need his skin an' his arms an' my Pete."

***

It was an unnaturally warm day for early December and Mikey Way was immune to the cold anyway. The blindfold had been securely tied around his eyes. He walked confidently with his hand in Frank's, not staggering once; he trusted Frank with his life, he'd said, although he was suspicious of what was going on here.

"Just a surprise," Frank said.

"You're such a cryptic shit," Mikey said.

"No talking."

Frank could sense the eye roll.

In just a few minutes they were at the edge of the forest in the northern edge of campus, a few feet in front of Pete who was also blindfolded. Gabe winked and at that moment, both he and Frank leaned into their pupil's ears and whispered, "Step forward."

It was more for their own amusement, really, the theatrics and the blind navigation. But they grabbed each other and watched as Mikey and Pete unknowingly reached out for each other, taking slow steps forward. Their arms brushed, and then they held hands.

"Mikey?" Pete said.

"He recognizes him by his hands," Gabe gushed.

"I know," Frank said excitedly, nudging him.

"What the fuck?" Mikey said. He surged forward and wrapped his arms around Pete. They held each other for a long time, breathing each other in and just being so cute Frank could die.

"The Hammocks are right next to you, if you guys wanna go talk or cuddle or whatever," Gabe called.

Pete pulled away slightly and took off his blindfold. Then he took the one off of Mikey. He held Mikey's face in his hands and examined him.

"It's kind of ironic that _they_ brought us here," Pete said.

Mikey smiled and looked at Frank and Gabe, who waved from a few feet away. They were creeping away, slowly.

"I think they're trying to make a point," Mikey said.

His hands brushed Pete's arms. The last thing Gabe and Frank saw before they ran for it was Pete dropping a kiss on Mikey's throat that made him laugh.

***

It was the last day of finals. Most people had gone home; Pete, Ray, and Frank were the only unfortunate souls left in their suite. While Pete was taking a final, Frank was doing last minute packing of the things he'd take home for winter break. Guitar? Yes. Flip flops? Why the hell did he even own flip flops?

Frank didn't notice Ray standing by the door right away. He startled when he turned and saw him there, leaning against the door frame with a wistful smile on his face. Frank chuckled, and then sighed.

"Leaving in a bit," Frank said. Ray nodded.

"I'm leaving in a few hours," Ray said.

There was a silent tension between them. Friendships had been slowly mended because no one wanted to leave for winter break and have bad feelings fester for a month. Pete had formally apologized to Gabe and Frank but warned them to stay the hell away from his man. Gerard had apologized for knocking Frank down though Frank admitted, to Gerard's amusement, that he deserved worse. He guessed it was Ray's turn now. Everything was out in the open; everyone had said what they needed to.

"Gerard and I really wanna give it another shot," Ray said.

Frank locked his jaw, folding a shirt slowly then throwing it carelessly onto the pile in his open suitcase. "Why are you telling me that?" Frank asked.

He knew. They both knew. Ray stood there quietly as Frank packed for a few minutes, then when Frank felt he couldn't find any other crap to throw into his suitcase he stood up and folded his arms.

"How many people do I have to sleep with to make this a happy ending for myself?" he said. Ray laughed, the tension in his shoulders obviously loosening.

Frank wasn't going to dwell on a stupid crush. He had good friends, he had a band, he managed to get on the dean's list, and now he'd be going home and getting away from the drama that he honestly did not expect college to be. He smiled at Ray and extended a hand to him, which Ray took and pulled him into a hug. Ray hugs were the best; he was huge and he was warm and he enveloped you completely.

"We can hang out over the break you know," Ray said. "This isn't some final goodbye."

As they broke apart, Frank scoffed. "I'm holding you to that, mother fucker," he said.

Ray rolled his eyes, swatted Frank's shoulder playfully, and returned to his room. Frank zipped up his suitcase and lied down on his bed, holding his phone to his chest and tapping it impatiently. His mother would call soon and he'd throw on his coat and bolt downstairs with his suitcase, the eagerness of a kid ready for some much needed distance between himself and his school. One semester down. Seven more to go.

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel is in the works...


End file.
